TALES  OF  THE 
FISH  PATROL 


TALES  OF  THE  FISH 
PATROL 

BY 

JACK    LONDON,  \81fc-VW 


ABYSS,"  Y'THE  CALL  OF  THE  WILD,'*   ETC. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 
GEORGE   VARIAN 


INTERNATIONAL  FICTION  LIBRARY 

CLEVELAND  NEW  YORK 

Made  in  U.S.A. 


.1 

.  1 


Copyright,  1905 
By  PERRY  MASON  COMPANY 

Copyright,  1905 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


All  rights  reserved 


PRESS    OF 

THE    COMMERCIAL    BOOKBINDING   CO. 
CLEVELAND 


Bancroft  Library 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

SAN  FRANCISCO  BAY  is  so  large 
that  often  its  storms  are  more  dis- 
astrous to  ocean-going  craft  than 
is  the  ocean  itself  in  its  violent  moments. 
The  waters  of  the  bay  contain  all  manner 
of  fish,  wherefore  its  surface  is  ploughed 
by  the  keels  of  all  manner  of  fishing  boats 
manned  by  all  manner  of  fishermen.  To 
protect  the  fish  from  this  motley  float- 
ing population  many  wise  laws  have  been 
passed,  and  there  is  a  fish  patrol  to  see 
that  these  laws  are  enforced.  Exciting 
times  are  the  lot  of  the  fish  patrol:  in 
its  history  more  than  one  dead  patrolman 
has  marked  defeat,  and  more  often  dead 


12        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

fishermen    across    their    illegal     nets    have 
marked  success. 

Wildest  among  the  fisher-folk  may  be 
accounted  the  Chinese  shrimp-catchers.  It 
is  the  habit  of  the  shrimp  to  crawl  along 
the  bottom  in  vast  armies  till  it  reaches 
fresh  water,  when  it  turns  about  and  crawls 
back  again  to  the  salt.  And  where  the 
tide  ebbs  and  flows,  the  Chinese  sink  great 
bag-nets  to  the  bottom,  with  gaping  mouths, 
into  which  the  shrimp  crawls  and  from 
which  it  is  transferred  to  the  boiling-pot. 
This  in  itself  would  not  be  bad,  were  it 
not  for  the  small  mesh  of  the  nets,  so  small 
that  the  tiniest  fishes,  little  new-hatched 
things  not  a  quarter  of  an  inch  long,  can- 
not pass  through.  The  beautiful  beaches 
of  Points  Pedro  and  Pablo,  where  are  the 
shrimp-catchers'  villages,  are  made  fearful 
by  the  stench  from  myriads  of  decaying 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        13 

fish,  and  against  this  wasteful  destruction  it 
has  ever  been  the  duty  of  the  fish  patrol 
to  act. 

When  I  was  a  youngster  of  sixteen, 
a  good  sloop-sailor  and  all-round  bay- 
waterman,  my  sloop,  the  Reindeer,  was 
chartered  by  the  Fish  Commission,  and  I 
became  for  the  time  being  a  deputy  patrol- 
man. After  a  deal  of  work  among  the 
Greek  fishermen  of  the  Upper  Bay  and 
rivers,  where  knives  flashed  at  the  begin- 
ning of  trouble  and  men  permitted  them- 
selves to  be  made  prisoners  only  after  a 
revolver  was  thrust  in  their  faces,  we  hailed 
with  delight  an  expedition  to  the  Lower  Bay 
against  the  Chinese  shrimp-catchers. 

There  were  six  of  us,  in  two  boats,  and 
to  avoid  suspicion  we  ran  down  after  dark 
and  dropped  anchor  under  a  projecting 
bluff  of  land  known  as  Point  Pinole.  As 


I4        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

the  east  paled  with  the  first  light  of  dawn 
we  got  under  way  again,  and  hauled  close 
on  the  land  breeze  as  we  slanted  across 
the  bay  toward  Point  Pedro.  The  morn- 
ing mists  curled  and  clung  to  the  water 
so  that  we  could  see  nothing,  but  we  busied 
ourselves  driving  the  chill  from  our  bodies 
with  hot  coffee.  Also  we  had  to  devote 
ourselves  to  the  miserable  task  of  bailing, 
for  in  some  incomprehensible  way  the  Rein- 
deer had  sprung  a  generous  leak.  Half  the 
night  had  been  spent  in  overhauling  the  bal- 
last and  exploring  the  seams,  but  the  labor 
had  been  without  avail.  The  water  still 
poured  in,  and  perforce  we  doubled  up  in 
the  cockpit  and  tossed  it  out  again. 

After  coffee,  three  of  the  men  withdrew 
to  the  other  boat,  a  Columbia  River  salmon 
boat,  leaving  three  of  us  in  the  Reindeer. 
Then  the  two  craft  proceeded  in  company 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        15 

till  the  sun  showed  over  the  eastern  sky- 
line. Its  fiery  rays  dispelled  the  cling- 
ing vapors,  and  there,  before  our  eyes,  like 
a  picture,  lay  the  shrimp  fleet,  spread 
out  in  a  great  half-moon,  the  tips  of  the 
crescent  fully  three  miles  apart,  and  each 
junk  moored  fast  to  the  buoy  of  a  shrimp- 
net.  But  there  was  no  stir,  no  sign  of  life. 

The  situation  dawned  upon  us.  While 
waiting  for  slack  water,  in  which  to  lift 
their  heavy  nets  from  the  bed  of  the  bay,  the 
Chinese  had  all  gone  to  sleep  below.  We 
were  elated,  and  our  plan  of  battle  was 
swiftly  formed. 

"Throw  each  of  your  two  men  on  to  a 
junk,"  whispered  Le  Grant  to  me  from 
the  salmon  boat.  "And  you  make  fast  to 
a  third  yourself.  We'll  do  the  same,  and 
there's  no  reason  in  the  world  why  we 
shouldn't  capture  six  junks  at  the  least." 


:6        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

Then  we  separated.  I  put  the  Rein- 
deer  about  on  the  other  tack,  ran  up  under 
the  lee  of  a  junk,  shivered  the  mainsail  into 
the  wind  and  lost  headway,  and  forged 
past  the  stern  of  the  junk  so  slowly  and  so 
near  that  one  of  the  patrolmen  stepped 
lightly  aboard.  Then  I  kept  off,  filled  the 
mainsail,  and  bore  away  for  a  second  junk. 

Up  to  this  time  there  had  been  no  noise, 
but  from  the  first  junk  captured  bv  the 
salmon  boat  an  uproar  now  broke  forth. 
There  was  shrill  Oriental  yelling,  a  pistol 
shot,  and  more  yelling. 

"It's  all  up.  They're  warning  the  oth- 
ers," said  George,  the  remaining  patrolman, 
as  he  stood  beside  me  in  the  cockpit. 

By  this  time  we  were  in  the  thick  of 
the  fleet,  and  the  alarm  was  spreading  with 
incredible  swiftness.  The  decks  were 
beginning  to  swarm  with  half-awakened 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        17 

and  half-naked  Chinese.  Cries  and  yells 
of  warning  and  anger  were  flying  over  the 
quiet  water,  and  somewhere  a  conch  shell 
was  being  blown  with  great  success.  To 
the  right  of  us  I  saw  the  captain  of  a  junk 
chop  away  his  mooring  line  with  an  axe 
and  spring  to  help  his  crew  at  the  hoisting 
of  the  huge,  outlandish  lug-sail.  But  to  the 
left  the  first  heads  were  popping  up  from 
below  on  another  junk,  and  I  rounded  up 
the  Reindeer  alongside  long  enough  for 
George  to  spring  aboard. 

The  whole  fleet  was  now  under  way.  In 
addition  to  the  sails  they  had  gotten  out 
long  sweeps,  and  the  bay  was  being 
ploughed  in  every  direction  by  the  fleeing 
junks.  I  was  now  alone  in  the  Reindeer, 
seeking  feverishly  to  capture  a  third  prize. 
The  first  junk  I  took  after  was  a  clean 
miss,  for  it  trimmed  its  sheets  and  shot 


i8        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

away  surprisingly  into  the  wind.  By  fully 
half  a  point  it  outpointed  the  Reindeer, 
and  I  began  to  feel  respect  for  the  clumsy 
craft.  Realizing  the  hopelessness  of  the  pur- 
suit, I  filled  away,  threw  out  the  main-sheet, 
and  drove  down  before  the  wind  upon  the 
junks  to  leeward,  where  I  had  them  at  a 
disadvantage. 

The  one  I  had  selected  wavered  inde- 
cisively before  me,  and,  as  I  swung  wide  to 
make  the  boarding  gentle,  filled  suddenly  and 
darted  away,  the  swart  Mongols  shouting 
a  wild  rhythm  as  they  bent  to  the  sweeps. 
But  I  had  been  ready  for  this.  I  luffed 
suddenly.  Putting  the  tiller  hard  down, 
and  holding  it  down  with  my  body,  I 
brought  the  main-sheet  in,  hand  over 
hand,  on  the  run,  so  as  to  retain  all 
possible  striking  force.  The  two  starboard 
sweeps  of  the  junk  were  crumpled  up, 


WHITE   AND    YELLOW        19 

and  then  the  two  boats  came  together  with 
a  crash.  The  Reindeer  s  bowsprit,  like  a 
monstrous  hand,  reached  over  and  ripped 
out  the  junk's  chunky  mast  and  towering 
sail. 

This  was  met  by  a  curdling  yell  of  rage. 
A  big  Chinaman,  remarkably  evil-looking, 
with  his  head  swathed  in  a  yellow  silk 
handkerchief  and  face  badly  pock-marked, 
planted  a  pike-pole  on  the  Reindeer  s  bow 
and  began  to  shove  the  entangled  boats 
apart.  Pausing  long  enough  to  let  go  the 
jib  halyards,  and  just  as  the  Reindeer 
cleared  and  began  to  drift  astern,  I  leaped 
aboard  the  junk  with  a  line  and  made  fast. 
He  of  the  yellow  handkerchief  and  pock- 
marked face  came  toward  me  threaten- 
ingly, but  I  put  my  hand  into  my  hip  pocket, 
and  he  hesitated.  I  was  unarmed,  but  the 
Chinese  have  learned  to  be  fastidiously 


ao        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

careful  of  American  hip  pockets,  and  it 
was  upon  this  that  I  depended  to  keep  him 
and  his  savage  crew  at  a  distance. 

I  ordered  him  to  drop  the  anchor  at 
the  junk's  bow,  to  which  he  replied,  "No 
sabbe."  The  crew  responded  in  like  fash- 
ion, and  though  I  made  my  meaning  plain 
by  signs,  they  refused  to  understand.  Real- 
izing the  inexpediency  of  discussing  the 
matter,  I  went  forward  myself,  overran  the 
line,  and  let  the  anchor  go. 

"Now  get  aboard,  four  of  you,"  I  said 
in  a  loud  voice,  indicating  with  my  fingers 
that  four  of  them  were  to  go  with  me  and 
the  fifth  was  to  remain  by  the  junk.  The 
Yellow  Handkerchief  hesitated;  but  I  re- 
peated the  order  fiercely  (much  more  fiercely 
than  I  felt),  at  the  same  time  sending  my 
hand  to  my  hip.  Again  the  Yellow  Hand- 
kerchief was  overawed,  and  with  surly 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        21 

looks  he  led  three  of  his  men  aboard  the 
Reindeer.  I  cast  off  at  once,  and,  leaving 
the  jib  down,  steered  a  course  for  George's 
junk.  Here  it  was  easier,  for  there  were 
two  of  us,  and  George  had  a  pistol  to  fall 
back  on  if  it  came  to  the  worst.  And  here, 
as  with  my  junk,  four  Chinese  were  trans- 
ferred to  the  sloop  and  one  left  behind  to 
take  care  of  things. 

Four  more  were  added  to  our  passenger 
list  from  the  third  junk.  By  this  time  the 
salmon  boat  had  collected  its  twelve  pris- 
oners and  came  alongside,  badly  overloaded. 
To  make  matters  worse,  as  it  was  a  small 
boat,  the  patrolmen  were  so  jammed  in 
with  their  prisoners  that  they  would  have 
little  chance  in  case  of  trouble. 

"You'll  have  to  help  us  out,"  said  Le 
Grant. 

I    looked    over    my    prisoners,    who    had 


22        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

crowded  into  the  cabin  and  on  top  of  it* 
"I  can  take  three,"  I  answered. 

"Make  it  four,"  he  suggested,  "and  I'll 
take  Bill  with  me."  (Bill  was  the  third 
patrolman.)  "We  haven't  elbow  room  here, 
and  in  case  of  a  scuffle  one  white  to  every 
two  of  them  will  be  just  about  the  right 
proportion." 

The  exchange  was  made,  and  the  salmon 
boat  got  up  its  spritsail  and  headed  down 
the  bay  toward  the  marshes  off  San  Rafael. 
I  ran  up  the  jib  and  followed  with  the 
Reindeer.  San  Rafael,  where  we  were  to 
turn  our  catch  over  to  the  authorities,  com- 
municated with  the  bay  by  way  of  a  long 
and  tortuous  slough,  or  marshland  creek, 
which  could  be  navigated  only  when  the 
tide  was  in.  Slack  water  had  come,  and, 
as  the  ebb  was  commencing,  there  was 
need  for  hurry  if  we  cared  to  escape  wait- 
ing half  a  dav  for  the  next  tide. 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        23 

But  the  land  breeze  had  begun  to  die 
away  with  the  rising  sun,  and  now  came 
only  in  failing  puffs.  The  salmon  boat 
got  out  its  oars  and  soon  left  us  far  astern. 
.Some  of  the  Chinese  stood  in  the  forward 
part  of  the  cockpit,  near  the  cabin  doors, 
and  once,  as  I  leaned  over  the  cockpit 
rail  to  flatten  down  the  jib-sheet  a  bit,  I  felt 
.some  one  brush  against  my  hip  pocket.  I 
made  no  sign,  but  out  of  the  corner  of  my 
eye  I  saw  that  the  Yellow  Handkerchief 
had  discovered  the  emptiness  of  the  pocket 
which  had  hitherto  overawed  him. 

To  make  matters  serious,  during  all  the 
excitement  of  boarding  the  junks  the  Rein- 
deer had  not  been  bailed,  and  the  water 
was  beginning  to  slush  over  the  cockpit 
floor.  The  shrimp-catchers  pointed  at  it 
nnd  looked  to  me  questioningly. 

"Yes,"    I    said.     "Dime    by,    allee    same 


24        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

dlown,  velly  quick,  you  no  bail  now. 
Sabbe?" 

No,  they  did  not  "sabbe,"  or  at  least 
they  shook  their  heads  to  that  effect,  though 
they  chattered  most  comprehendingly  to  one 
another  in  their  own  lingo.  I  pulled  up 
three  or  four  of  the  bottom  boards,  got  a 
couple  of  buckets  from  a  locker,  and  by 
unmistakable  sign-language  invited  them  to 
fall  to.  But  they  laughed,  and  some  crowded 
into  the  cabin  and  some  climbed  up  on  top. 

Their  laughter  was  not  good  laughter. 
There  was  a  hint  of  menace  in  it,  a  mali- 
ciousness which  their  black  looks  verified. 
The  Yellow  Handkerchief,  since  his  dis- 
covery of  my  empty  pocket,  had  become 
most  insolent  in  his  bearing,  and  he  wormed 
about  among  the  other  prisoners,  talking 
to  them  with  great  earnestness. 

Swallowing  my  chagrin,  I    stepped    down 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        25 

into  the  cockpit  and  began  throwing  out 
the  water.  But  hardly  had  I  begun,  when 
the  boom  swung  overhead,  the  mainsail 
filled  with  a  jerk,  and  the  Reindeer  heeled 
over.  The  day  wind  was  springing  up. 
George  was  the  veriest  of  landlubbers,  so 
I  was  forced  to  give  over  bailing  and  take 
the  tiller.  The  wind  was  blowing  directly 
off  Point  Pedro  and  the  high  mountains 
behind,  and  because  of  this  was  squally 
and  uncertain,  half  the  time  bellying  the 
canvas  out,  and  the  other  half  flapping  it 
idly. 

George  was  about  the  most  all-round 
helpless  man  I  had  ever  met.  Among  his 
other  disabilities,  he  was  a  consumptive, 
and  I  knew  that  if  he  attempted  to  bail, 
it  might  bring  on  a  hemorrhage.  Yet 
the  rising  water  warned  me  that  some- 
thing must  be  done.  Again  I  ordered  the 


26        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

shrimp-catchers  to  lend  a  hand  with  the 
buckets.  They  laughed  defiantly,  and  those 
inside  the  cabin,  the  water  up  to  their 
ankles,  shouted  back  and  forth  with  those 
on  top. 

"You'd  better  get  out  your  gun  and 
make  them  bail,"  I  said  to  George. 

But  he  shook  his  head  and  showed  all 
too  plainly  that  he  was  afraid.  The  Chi- 
nese could  see  the  funk  he  was  in  as  well 
as  I  could,  and  their  insolence  became 
insufferable.  Those  in  the  cabin  broke  into 
the  food  lockers,  and  those  above  scrambled 
down  and  joined  them  in  a  feast  on  our 
crackers  and  canned  goods. 

"What  do  we  care  ?"   George  said  weakly. 

I  was  fuming  with  helpless  anger.  "If 
they  get  out  of  hand,  it  will  be  too  late  to 
care.  The  best  thing  you  can  do  is  to  get 
them  in  check  right  now." 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        27 

The  water  was  rising  higher  and  higher, 
and  the  gusts,  forerunners  of  a  steady  breeze, 
were  growing  stiffer  and  stiffer.  And  be- 
tween the  gusts,  the  prisoners,  having 
gotten  away  with  a  week's  grub,  took  to 
crowding  first  to  one  side  and  then  to  the 
other  till  the  Reindeer  rocked  like  a  cockle- 
shell. Yellow  Handkerchief  approached 
me,  and,  pointing  out  his  village  on  the 
Point  Pedro  beach,  gave  me  to  understand 
that  if  I  turned  the  Reindeer  in  that  direc- 
tion and  put  them  ashore,  they,  in  turn, 
would  go  to  bailing.  By  now  the  water  in 
the  cabin  was  up  to  the  bunks,  and  the  bed- 
clothes were  sopping.  It  was  a  foot  deep 
on  the  cockpit  floor.  Nevertheless  I  re- 
fused, and  I  could  see  by  George's  face 
that  he  was  disappointed. 

"If  you  don't  show  some  nerve,  they'll 
rush  us  and  throw  us  overboard,"  I  said 


58        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

to  him.  "Better  give  me  your  revolver, 
if  you  want  to  be  safe." 

"The  safest  thing  to  do,"  he  chattered 
cravenly,  "is  to  put  them  ashore.  I,  for 
one,  don't  want  to  be  drowned  for  the  sake 
of  a  handful  of  dirty  Chinamen." 

"And  I,  for  another,  don't  care  to  give 
in  to  a  handful  of  dirty  Chinamen  to  escape 
drowning,"  I  answered  hotly. 

"You'll  sink  the  Reindeer  under  us  all 
at  this  rate,"  he  whined.  "And  what  good 
that'll  do  I  can't  see." 

"Every  man  to  his  taste,"  I  retorted. 

He  made  no  reply,  but  I  could  see  he  was 
trembling  pitifully.  Between  the  threaten- 
ing Chinese  and  the  rising  water  he  was 
beside  himself  with  fright ;  and,  more  than 
the  Chinese  and  the  water,  I  feared  him  and 
what  his  fright  might  impel  him  to  do.  I 
could  see  him  casting  longing  glances  at  the 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        29 

small  skiff  towing  astern,  so  in  the  next 
calm  I  hauled  the  skiff  alongside.  As  1 
did  so  his  eyes  brightened  with  hope;  but 
before  he  could  guess  my  intention,  I  stove 
the  frail  bottom  through  with  a  hand-axe, 
and  the  skiff  filled  to  its  gunwales. 

"It's  sink  or  float  together,"  I  said. 
"And  if  you'll  give  me  your  revolver,  P1J 
have  the  Reindeer  bailed  out  in  a  jiffy." 

"They're  too  many  for  us,"  he  whim- 
pered. "We  can't  fight  them  all." 

I  turned  my  back  on  him  in  disgust.  The 
salmon  boat  had  long  since  passed  from 
sight  behind  a  little  archipelago  known  as 
the  Marin  Islands,  so  no  help  could  be 
looked  for  from  that  quarter.  Yellow  Hand- 
kerchief came  up  to  me  in  a  familiar 
manner,  the  water  in  the  cockpit  slushing 
against  his  legs.  I  did  not  like  his  looks. 
I  felt  that  beneath  the  pleasant  smile  he  was 


30        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

trying  to  put  on  his  face  there  was  an  ill 
purpose.  I  ordered  him  back,  and  so  sharply 
that  he  obeyed. 

"Now  keep  your  distance,"  I  commanded, 
"  and  don't  you  come  closer ! " 

"Wha'  fo'?"  he  demanded  indignantly. 
"I  t'ink-um  talkee  talkee  heap  good." 

"Talkee  talkee,"  I  answered  bitterly,  for  I 
knew  now  that  he  had  understood  all  that 
passed  between  George  and  me.  "What  for 
talkee  talkee  ?  You  no  sabbe  talkee  talkee." 

He  grinned  in  a  sickly  fashion.  "Yep, 
I  sabbe  velly  much.  I  honest  Chinaman." 

"All  right,"  I  answered.  "You  sabbe 
talkee  talkee,  then  you  bail  water  plenty 
plenty.  After  that  we  talkee  talkee." 

He  shook  his  head,  at  the  same  time 
pointing  over  his  shoulder  to  his  comrades. 
"No  can  do.  Velly  bad  Chinamen,  heap 
velly  bad.  I  t'ink-um — " 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW       31 

"Stand  back!"  I  shouted,  for  I  had 
noticed  his  hand  disappear  beneath  his 
blouse  and  his  body  prepare  for  a  spring. 

Disconcerted,  he  went  back  into  the 
cabin,  to  hold  a  council,  apparently,  from 
the  way  the  jabbering  broke  forth.  The 
Reindeer  was  very  deep  in  the  water,  and 
her  movements  had  grown  quite  loggy.  In 
a  rough  sea  she  would  have  inevitably 
swamped;  but  the  wind,  when  it  did  blow, 
was  off  the  land,  and  scarcely  a  ripple  dis- 
turbed the  surface  of  the  bay. 

"I  think  you'd  better  head  for  the 
beach,"  George  said  abruptly,  in  a  man- 
ner that  told  me  his  fear  had  forced  him 
to  make  up  his  mind  to  some  course  of 
action. 

"I  think  not,"  I  answered  shortly. 

"I  command  you,"  he  said  in  a  bully- 
ing tone. 


32        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

"I  was  commanded  to  bring  these  pris- 
oners into  San  Rafael,"  was  my  reply. 

Our  voices  were  raised,  and  the  sound 
of  the  altercation  brought  the  Chinese  out 
of  the  cabin. 

"Now  will  you  head  for  the  beach  ?" 

This  from  George,  and  I  found  myself 
looking  into  the  muzzle  of  his  revolver  — 
of  the  revolver  he  dared  to  use  on  me,  but 
was  too  cowardly  to  use  on  the  prisoners. 

My  brain  seemed  smitten  with  a  dazzling 
brightness.  The  whole  situation,  in  all  its 
bearings,  was  focussed  sharply  before  me 
—  the  shame  of  losing  the  prisoners,  the 
worthlessness  and  cowardice  of  George,  the 
meeting  with  Le  Grant  and  the  other  patrol- 
men and  the  lame  explanation;  and  then 
there  was  the  fight  I  had  fought  so  hard, 
victory  wrenched  from  me  just  as  I  thought 
I  had  it  within  my  grasp.  And  out  of  the 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW       33 

tail  of  my  eye  I  could  see  the  Chinese  crowd- 
ing together  by  the  cabin  doors  and  leer- 
ing triumphantly.  It  would  never  do. 

I  threw  my  hand  up  and  my  head  down. 
The  first  act  elevated  the  muzzle,  and 
the  second  removed  my  head  from  the 
path  of  the  bullet  which  went  whistling 
past.  One  hand  closed  on  George's  wrist, 
the  other  on  the  revolver.  Yellow  Hand- 
kerchief and  his  gang  sprang  toward  me. 
It  was  now  or  never.  Putting  all  my 
strength  into  a  sudden  effort,  I  swung 
George's  body  forward  to  meet  them.  Then 
I  pulled  back  with  equal  suddenness,  rip- 
ping the  revolver  out  of  his  fingers  and 
jerking  him  off  his  feet.  He  fell  against 
Yellow  Handkerchief's  knees,  who  stumbled 
over  him,  and  the  pair  wallowed  in  the 
bailing  hole  where  the  cockpit  floor  was 
torn  open.  The  next  instant  I  was  cover- 


34        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

ing  them  with  my  revolver,  and  the  wild 
shrimp-catchers  were  cowering  and  cringing 
away. 

But  I  swiftly  discovered  that  there  was 
all  the  difference  in  the  world  between 
shooting  men  who  are  attacking  and  men 
who  are  doing  nothing  more  than  simply 
refusing  to  obey.  For  obey  they  would 
not  when  I  ordered  them  into  the  bailing 
hole.  I  threatened  them  with  the  revolver, 
but  they  sat  stolidly  in  the  flooded  cabin 
and  on  the  roof  and  would  not  move. 

Fifteen  minutes  passed,  the  Reindeer  sink- 
ing deeper  and  deeper,  her  mainsail  flapping 
in  the  calm.  But  from  off  the  Point  Pedro 
shore  I  saw  a  dark  line  form  on  the  water 
and  travel  toward  us.  It  was  the  steady 
breeze  I  had  been  expecting  so  long.  I 
called  to  the  Chinese  and  pointed  it  out. 
They  hailed  it  with  exclamations.  Then  I 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW       35 

pointed  to  the  sail  and  to  the  crater  in  the 
Reindeer,  and  indicated  by  signs  that  when 
the  wind  reached  the  sail,  what  of  the  water 
aboard  we  would  capsiae.  But  they  jeered 
defiantly,  for  they  knew  it  was  in  my  power 
to  luff  the  helm  and  let  go  the  main-sheet, 
so  as  to  spill  the  wind  and  escape  damage. 

But  my  mind  was  made  up.  I  hauled 
in  the  main-sheet  a  foot  or  two,  took  a  turn 
with  it,  and  bracing  my  feet,  put  my  back 
against  the  tiller.  This  left  me  one  hand 
for  the  sheet  and  one  for  the  revolver.  The 
dark  line  drew  nearer,  and  I  could  see  them 
looking  from  me  to  it  and  back  again  with 
an  apprehension  they  could  not  successfully 
conceal.  My  brain  and  will  and  endurance 
were  pitted  against  theirs,  and  the  problem 
was  which  could  stand  the  strain  of  im- 
minent death  the  longer  and  not  give  in. 

Then    the    wind    struck    us.     The    main 


36        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

sheet  tautened  with  a  brisk  rattling  of  the 
blocks,  the  boom  uplifted,  the  sail  bellied 
out,  and  the  Reindeer  heeled  over  —  over, 
and  over,  till  the  lee-rail  went  under,  the 
deck  went  under,  the  cabin  windows  went 
under,  and  the  bay  began  to  pour  in  over 
the  cockpit  rail.  So  violently  had  she  heeled 
over,  that  the  men  in  the  cabin  had  been 
thrown  on  top  of  one  another  into  the  lee 
bunk,  where  they  squirmed  and  twisted 
and  were  washed  about,  those  underneath 
being  perilously  near  to  drowning. 

The  wind  freshened  a  bit,  and  the  Rein- 
deer  went  over  farther  than  ever.  For  the 
moment  I  thought  she  was  gone,  and  I 
knew  that  another  puff  like  that  and  she 
surely  would  go.  While  I  pressed  her  under 
and  debated  whether  I  should  give  up  or 
not,  the  Chinese  cried  for  mercy.  I  think 
it  was  the  sweetest  sound  I  have  ever  heard. 


WHITE   AND   YELLOW        37 

And  then,  and  not  until  then,  did  I  luff  up 
and  ease  out  the  main-sheet.  The  Rein- 
Jeer  righted  very  slowly,  and  when  she  was 
on  an  even  keel  was  so  much  awash  that 
I  doubted  if  she  could  be  saved. 

But  the  Chinese  scrambled  madly  into 
the  cockpit  and  fell  to  bailing  with  buckets, 
pots,  pans,  and  everything  they  could  lay 
hands  on.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see 
that  water  flying  over  the  side !  And  when 
the  Reindeer  was  high  and  proud  on  the 
water  once  more,  we  dashed  away  with  the 
breeze  on  our  quarter,  and  at  the  last  pos- 
sible moment  crossed  the  mud  flats  and 
entered  the  slough. 

The  spirit  of  the  Chinese  was  broken, 
and  so  docile  did  they  become  that  ere  we 
made  San  Rafael  they  were  out  with  the 
tow-rope,  Yellow  Handkerchief  at  the  head 
of  the  line.  As  for  George,  it  was  his  last 


38        WHITE   AND   YELLOW 

trip  with  the  fish  patrol.  He  did  not  care 
for  that  sort  of  thing,  he  explained,  and  he 
thought  a  clerkship  ashore  was  good  enough 
for  him.  And  we  thought  so,  too. 


II 

THE  KING  OF  THE  GREEKS 


THE  KING  OF  THE  GREEKS 

B[G  ALEC  had  never  been  captured  by 
the  fish  patrol.     It  was  his  boast  that 
no  man  could  take  him  alive,  and  it 
f?as  his  history  that  of  the  many  men  who 
had  tried  to  take  him  dead  none  had  suc- 
ceeded.    It  was    also    history  that    at   least 
two   patrolmen  who  had  tried  to  take  him 
dead  had  died  themselves.     Further,  no  man 
violated    the    fish    laws   more   systematically 
and  deliberately  than  Big  Alec. 

He  was  called  "Big  Alec"  because  of 
his  gigantic  stature.  His  height  was  six 
feet  three  inches,  and  he  was  correspond- 
ingly broad-shouldered  and  deep-chested. 
He  was  splendidly  muscled  and  hard  as 


42     THE    KING    OF   THE    GREEKS 

steel,  and  there  were  innumerable  stories 
in  circulation  among  the  fisher-folk  con- 
cerning his  prodigious  strength.  He  was 
as  bold  and  dominant  of  spirit  as  he  was 
strong  of  body,  and  because  of  this  he  was 
widely  known  by  another  name,  that  of 
"The  King  of  the  Greeks."  The  fishing 
population  was  largely  composed  of  Greeks, 
and  they  looked  up  to  him  and  obeyed  him 
as  their  chief.  And  as  their  chief,  he  fought 
their  fights  for  them,  saw  that  they  were 
protected,  saved  them  from  the  law  when 
they  fell  into  its  clutches,  and  made  them 
stand  by  one  another  and  himself  in  time 
of  trouble. 

In  the  old  days,  the  fish  patrol  had  at- 
tempted his  capture  many  disastrous  times 
and  had  finally  given  it  over,  so  that  when 
the  word  was  out  that  he  was  coming  to 
Benicia,  I  was  most  anxious  to  see  him. 


THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     43 

But  I  did  not  have  to  hunt  him  up.  In  his 
usual  bold  way,  the  first  thing  he  did  on 
arriving  was  to  hunt  us  up.  Charley  Le 
Grant  and  I  at  the  time  were  under  a  pa- 
trolman named  Carmintel,  and  the  three  of 
us  were  on  the  Reindeer,  preparing  for  a 
trip,  when  Big  Alec  stepped  aboard.  Car- 
mintel evidently  knew  him,  for  they  shook 
hands  in  recognition.  Big  Alec  took  no 
notice  of  Charley  or  me. 

"I've  come  down  to  fish  sturgeon  a  couple 
of  months,"  he  said  to  Carmintel. 

His  eyes  flashed  with  challenge  as  he 
spoke,  and  we  noticed  the  patrolman's  eyes 
drop  before  him. 

"That's  all  right,  Alec,"  Carmintel  said  in 
a  low  voice.  "I'll  not  bother  you.  Come 
on  into  the  cabin,  and  we'll  talk  things 
over,"  he  added. 

When  they  had  gone  inside  and  shut  the 


44     THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

doors  after  them,  Charley  winked  with 
slow  deliberation  at  me.  But  I  was  only 
a  youngster,  and  new  to  men  and  the  ways 
of  some  men,  so  I  did  not  understand.  Nor 
did  Charley  explain,  though  I  felt  there 
was  something  wrong  about  the  business. 

Leaving  them  to  their  conference,  at 
Charley's  suggestion  we  boarded  our  skiff 
and  pulled  over  to  the  Old  Steamboat 
Wharf,  where  Big  Alec's  ark  was  lying. 
An  ark  is  a  house-boat  of  small  though 
comfortable  dimensions,  and  is  as  necessary 
to  the  Upper  Bay  fisherman  as  are  nets 
and  boats.  We  were  both  curious  to  see 
Big  Alec's  ark,  for  history  said  that  it  had 
been  the  scene  of  more  than  one  pitched 
battle,  and  that  it  was  riddled  with  bullet- 
holes. 

We  found  the  holes  (stopped  with  wooden 
plugs  and  painted  over),  but  there  were 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS    45 

not  so  many  as  I  had  expected.  Charley 
noted  my  look  of  disappointment,  and 
laughed ;  and  then  to  comfort  me  he  gave 
an  authentic  account  of  one  expedition 
which  had  descended  upon  Big  Alec's  float- 
ing home  to  capture  him,  alive  preferably, 
dead  if  necessary.  At  the  end  of  half  a 
day's  fighting,  the  patrolmen  had  drawn  off 
in  wrecked  boats,  with  one  of  their  number 
killed  and  three  wounded.  And  when  they 
returned  next  morning  with  reinforcements 
they  found  only  the  mooring-stakes  of  Big 
Alec's  ark;  the  ark  itself  remained  hidden 
for  months  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  Suisun 
tules. 

"But  why  was  he  not  hanged  for  mur- 
der?" I  demanded.  "Surely  the  United 
States  is  powerful  enough  to  bring  such  a 
man  to  justice." 

"He  gave   himself  up   and   stood   trial," 


46     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS 

Charley  answered.  "It  cost  him  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  to  win  the  case,  which  he  did 
on  technicalities  and  with  the  aid  of  the 
best  lawyers  in  the  state.  Every  Greek 
fisherman  on  the  river  contributed  to  the 
sum.  Big  Alec  levied  and  collected  the  tax, 
for  all  the  world  like  a  king.  The  United 
States  may  be  all-powerful,  my  lad,  but  the 
fact  remains  that  Big  Alec  is  a  king  inside 
the  United  States,  with  a  country  and  sub- 
jects all  his  own." 

"But  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  his 
fishing  for  sturgeon  ?  He's  bound  to  fish 
with  a  'Chinese  line/'1 

Charley  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "We'll 
see  what  we  will  see,"  he  said  enigmati- 
cally. 

Now  a  "Chinese  line"  is  a  cunning  device 
invented  by  the  people  whose  name  it  bears. 
By  a  simple  system  of  floats,  weights,  and 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS    47 

anchors,  thousands  of  hooks,  each  on  a 
separate  leader,  are  suspended  at  a  distance 
of  from  six  inches  to  a  foot  above  the  bot- 
tom. The  remarkable  thing  about  such  a 
line  is  the  hook.  It  is  barbless,  and  in 
place  of  the  barb,  the  hook  is  filed  long  and 
tapering  to  a  point  as  sharp  as  that  of  a 
needle.  These  hooks  are  only  a  few  inches 
apart,  and  when  several  thousand  of  them 
are  suspended  just  above  the  bottom,  like 
a  fringe,  for  a  couple  of  hundred  fathoms, 
they  present  a  formidable  obstacle  to  the 
fish  that  travel  along  the  bottom. 

Such  a  fish  is  the  sturgeon,  which  goes 
rooting  along  like  a  pig,  and  indeed  is  often 
called  "pig-fish."  Pricked  by  the  first  hook 
it  touches,  the  sturgeon  gives  a  startled  leap 
and  comes  into  contact  with  half  a  dozen 
more  hooks.  Then  it  threshes  about  wildly, 
until  it  receives  hook  after  hook  in  its  soft 


48     THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

flesh;  and  the  hooks,  straining  from  many 
different  angles,  hold  the  luckless  fish  fast 
until  it  is  drowned.  Because  no  sturgeon 
can  pass  through  a  Chinese  line,  the  device 
is  called  a  trap  in  the  fish  laws;  and 
because  it  bids  fair  to  exterminate  the  stur- 
geon, it  is  branded  by  the  fish  laws  as 
illegal.  And  such  a  line,  we  were  confident, 
Big  Alec  intended  setting,  in  open  and 
flagrant  violation  of  the  law. 

Several  days  passed  after  the  visit  of  Big 
Alec,  during  which  Charley  and  I  kept  a 
sharp  watch  on  him.  He  towed  his  ark 
around  the  Solano  Wharf  and  into  the  big 

o 

bight  at  Turner's  Shipyard.  The  bight  we 
knew  to  be  good  ground  for  sturgeon,  and 
there  we  felt  sure  the  King  of  the  Greeks 
intended  to  begin  operations.  The  tide 
circled  like  a  mill-race  in  and  out  of  this 
bight,  and  made  it  possible  to  raise,  lower, 


THE   KING  OF  THE   GREEKS    49 

or  set  a  Chinese  line  only  at  slack  water. 
So  between  the  tides  Charley  and  I  made 
it  a  point  for  one  or  the  other  of  us  to  keep 
a  lookout  from  the  Solano  Wharf. 

On  the  fourth  day  I  was  lying  in  the  sun 
behind  the  stringer-piece  of  the  wharf, 
when  I  saw  a  skiff  leave  the  distant  shore 
and  pull  out  into  the  bight.  In  an  instant 
the  glasses  were  at  my  eyes  and  I  was  fol- 
lowing every  movement  of  the  skiff.  There 
were  two  men  in  it,  and  though  it  was  a 
good  mile  away,  I  made  out  one  of  them 
to  be  Big  Alec;  and  ere  the  skiff  returned 
to  shore  I  made  out  enough  more  to  know 
that  the  Greek  had  set  his  line. 

"Big  Alec  has  a  Chinese  line  out  in  the 
bight  off  Turner's  Shipyard,"  Charley  Le 
Grant  said  that  afternoon  to  Carmintel. 

A  fleeting  expression  of  annoyance  passed 
over  the  patrolman's  face,  and  then  he 


50     THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

said,  "Yes?"  in  an  absent  way,  and  that 
was  all. 

Charley  bit  his  lip  with  suppressed  anger 
and  turned  on  his  heel. 

"Are  you  game,  my  lad?"  he  said  to 
me  later  on  in  the  evening,  just  as  we  fin- 
ished washing  down  the  Reindeer  s  decks 
and  were  preparing  to  turn  in. 

A  lump  came  up  in  my  throat,  and  I 
could  only  nod  my  head. 

"Well,  then,"  and  Charley's  eyes  glit- 
tered in  a  determined  way,  "we've  got  to 
capture  Big  Alec  between  us,  you  and  I, 
and  we've  got  to  do  it  in  spite  of  Carmintel. 
Will  you  lend  a  hand  ?" 

"It's  a  hard  proposition,  but  we  can  do 
it,"  he  added  after  a  pause. 

"Of  course  we  can,"  I  supplemented 
enthusiastically. 

And  then  he  said,  "Of  course  we  can." 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     51 

and  we  shook  hands  on  it  and  went  to 
bed. 

But  it  was  no  easy  task  we  had  set  our- 
selves. In  order  to  convict  a  man  of  illegal 
fishing,  it  was  necessary  to  catch  him  in  the 
act  with  all  the  evidence  of  the  crime  about 
him  —  the  hooks,  the  lines,  the  fish,  and 
the  man  himself.  This  meant  that  we 
must  take  Big  Alec  on  the  open  water, 
where  he  could  see  us  coming  and  prepare 
for  us  one  of  the  warm  receptions  for  which 
he  was  noted. 

"There's  no  getting  around  it,"  Charley 
said  one  morning.  "If  we  can  only  get 
alongside  it's  an  even  toss,  and  there's  noth- 
ing left  for  us  but  to  try  and  get  alongside. 
Come  on,  lad." 

We  were  in  the  Columbia  River  salmon 
boat,  the  one  we  had  used  against  the 
Chinese  shrimp-catchers.  Slack  water  had 


52     THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

come,  and  as  we  dropped  around  the  end  of 
the  Solano  Wharf  we  saw  Big  Alec  at  work, 
running  his  line  and  removing  the  fish. 

"Change  places,"  Charley  commanded, 
"and  steer  just  astern  of  him  as  though 
you're  going  into  the  shipyard." 

I  took  the  tiller,  and  Charley  sat  down  on 
a  thwart  amidships,  placing  his  revolver 
handily  beside  him. 

"If  he  begins  to  shoot,"  he  cautioned, 
"get  down  in  the  bottom  and  steer  from 
there,  so  that  nothing  more  than  your  hand 
will  be  exposed." 

I  nodded,  and  we  kept  silent  after  that, 
the  boat  slipping  gently  through  the  water 
and  Big  Alec  growing  nearer  and  nearer. 
We  could  see  him  quite  plainly,  gaffing  the 
sturgeon  and  throwing  them  into  the  boat 
while  his  companion  ran  the  line  and  cleared 
the  hooks  as  he  dropped  them  back  into 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     53 

the  water.  Nevertheless,  we  were  five  hun- 
dred yards  away  when  the  big  fisherman 
hailed  us. 

"Here!  You!  What  do  you  want?"  he 
shouted. 

"Keep  go;ng,"  Charley  whispered^  "just 
as  though  you  didn't  hear  him." 

The  next  few  moments  were  very  anx- 
ious ones.  The  fisherman  was  studying  us 
sharply,  while  we  were  gliding  up  on  him 
every  second. 

"You  keep  off  if  you  know  what's  good 
for  you!"  he  called  out  suddenly,  as  though 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  as  to  who  and 
what  we  were.  "If  you  don't,  I'll  fix 
you!" 

He  brought  a  rifle  to  his  shoulder  and 
trained  it  on  me. 

"Now  will  you  keep  off?"  he  demanded. 

I   could   hear  Charley  groan  with   disap- 


54    THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

pointment.  "Keep  off,"  he  whispered; 
"it's  all  up  for  this  time." 

I  put  up  the  tiller  and  eased  the  sheet, 
and  the  salmon  boat  ran  off  five  or  six  points. 
Big  Alec  watched  us  till  we  were  out  of 
range,  when  he  returned  to  his  work. 

"You'd  better  leave  Big  Alec  alone," 
Carmintel  said,  rather  sourly,  to  Charley 
that  night. 

"So  he's  been  complaining  to  you,  has 
he?"  Charley  said  significantly. 

Carmintel  flushed  painfully.  "You'd  bet- 
ter leave  him  alone,  I  tell  you,"  he  repeated. 
"He's  a  dangerous  man,  and  it  won't  pay 
to  fool  with  him." 

"Yes,"  Charley  answered  softly;  "I've 
heard  that  it  pays  better  to  leave  him  alone." 

This  was  a  direct  thrust  at  Carmintel, 
and  we  could  see  by  the  expression  of  his 
face  that  it  sank  home.  For  it  was  common 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     55 

knowledge  that  Big  Alec  was  as  willing  to 
bribe  as  to  fight,  and  that  of  late  years  more 
than  one  patrolman  had  handled  the  fisher- 
man's money. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say — "  Carmintel 
began,  in  a  bullying  tone. 

But  Charley  cut  him  off  shortly.  "  I  mean 
to  say  nothing,"  he  said.  "You  heard  what 
I  said,  and  if  the  cap  fits,  why — " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  Car- 
mintel glowered  at  him,  speechless. 

"What  we  want  is  imagination,"  Charley 
said  to  me  one  day,  when  we  had  attempted 
to  creep  upon  Big  Alec  in  the  gray  of  dawn 
and  had  been  shot  at  for  our  trouble. 

And  thereafter,  and  for  many  days,  I 
cudgelled  my  brains  trying  to  imagine 
some  possible  way  by  which  two  men,  on 
an  open  stretch  of  water,  could  capture 
another  who  knew  how  to  use  a  rifle  and 


56     THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

was  never  to  be  found  without  one.  Regu- 
larly, every  slack  water,  without  slyness, 
boldly  and  openly  in  the  broad  day,  Big 
Alec  was  to  be  seen  running  his  line.  And 
what  made  it  particularly  exasperating  was 
the  fact  that  every  fisherman,  from  Benicia 
to  Vallejo,  knew  that  he  was  successfully 
defying  us.  Carmintel  also  bothered  us, 
for  he  kept  us  busy  among  the  shad-fishers 
of  San  Pablo,  so  that  we  had  little  time  to 
spare  on  the  King  of  the  Greeks.  But 
Charley's  wife  and  children  lived  at  Benicia, 
and  we  had  made  the  place  our  headquar- 
ters, so  that  we  always  returned  to  it. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  can  do,"  I  said, 
after  several  fruitless  weeks  had  passed; 
"we  can  wait  some  slack  water  till  Big 
Alec  has  run  his  line  and  gone  ashore  with 
the  fish,  and  then  we  can  go  out  and  cap- 
ture the  line.  It  will  put  him  to  time  and 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     57 

expense  to  make  another,  and  then  we'll 
figure  to  capture  that  too.  If  we  can't  cap- 
ture him,  we  can  discourage  him.  you  see." 

Charley  saw,  and  said  it  wasn't  a  bad 
idea.  We  watched  our  chance,  and  the 
next  low-water  slack,  after  Big  Alec  had 
removed  the  fish  from  the  line  and  returned 
ashore,  we  went  out  in  the  salmon  boat. 
We  had  the  bearings  of  the  line  from  shore 
marks,  and  we  knew  we  would  have  no 
difficulty  in  locating  it.  The  first  of  the 
flood  tide  was  setting  in,  when  we  ran  be- 
low where  we  thought  the  line  was  stretched 
and  dropped  over  a  fishing-boat  anchor. 
Keeping  a  short  rope  to  the  anchor,  so  that 
it  barely  touched  the  bottom,  we  dragged 
it  slowly  along  until  it  stuck  and  the  boat 
fetched  up  hard  and  fast. 

"We've  got  it,"  Charley  cried.  "Come 
on  and  lend  a  hand  to  get  it  in/* 


58     THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

Together  we  hove  up  the  rope  till  the 
anchor  came  in  sight  with  the  sturgeon 
line  caught  across  one  of  the  flukes.  Scores 
of  the  murderous-looking  hooks  flashed  into 
sight  as  we  cleared  the  anchor,  and  we  had 
just  started  to  run  along  the  line  to  the  end 
where  we  could  begin  to  lift  it,  when  a 
sharp  thud  in  the  boat  startled  us.  We 
looked  about,  but  saw  nothing  and  returned 
to  our  work.  An  instant  later  there  was  a 
similar  sharp  thud  and  the  gunwale  splin- 
tered between  Charley's  body  and  mine. 

"That's  remarkably  like  a  bullet,  lad/* 
he  said  reflectively.  "And  it's  a  long  shot 
Big  Alec's  making." 

"And  he's  using  smokeless  powder,"  he 
concluded,  after  an  examination  of  the 
mile-distant  shore.  "That's  why  we  can't 
hear  the  report." 

1  looked  at  the  shore,  but  could  see  no 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     59 

sign  of  Big  Alec,  who  was  undoubtedly 
hidden  in  some  rocky  nook  with  us  at  his 
mercy.  A  third  bullet  struck  the  water, 
glanced,  passed  singing  over  our  heads, 
and  struck  the  water  again  beyond. 

"I  guess  we'd  better  get  out  of  this," 
Charley  remarked  coolly.  "What  do  you 
think,  lad  ?" 

I  thought  so,  too,  and  said  we  didn't 
want  the  line  anyway.  Whereupon  we  cast 
off  and  hoisted  the  spritsail.  The  bullets 
ceased  at  once,  and  we  sailed  away,  unpleas- 
antly confident  that  Big  Alec  was  laughing 
at  our  discomfiture. 

And  more  than  that,  the  next  day  on  the 
fishing  wharf,  where  we  were  inspecting 
nets,  he  saw  fit  to  laugh  and  sneer  at  us, 
and  this  before  all  the  fishermen.  Charley's 
face  went  black  with  anger;  but  beyond 
promising  Big  Alec  that  in  the  end  he  would 


60    THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

surely  land  him  behind  the  bars,  he  con- 
trolled himself  and  said  nothing.  The  King 
of  the  Greeks  made  his  boast  that  no  fish 
patrol  had  ever  taken  him  or  ever  could 
take  him,  and  the  fishermen  cheered  him 
and  said  it  was  true.  They  grew  excited, 
and  it  looked  like  trouble  for  a  while;  but 
Big  Alec  asserted  his  kingship  and  quelled 
them. 

Carmintel  also  laughed  at  Charley,  and 
dropped  sarcastic  remarks,  and  made  it 
hard  for  him.  But  Charley  refused  to  be 
angered,  though  he  told  me  in  confidence 
that  he  intended  to  capture  Big  Alec  if  it 
took  all  the  rest  of  his  life  to  accomplish  it. 

"I  don't  know  how  I'll  do  it,"  he  said, 
"but  do  it  I  will,  as  sure  as  I  am  Charley 
Le  Grant.  The  idea  will  come  to  me  at 
the  right  and  proper  time,  never  fear." 

And  at  the  right  time  it  came,  and  most 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     61 

unexpectedly.  Fully  a  month  had  passed, 
and  we  were  constantly  up  and  down  the 
river,  and  down  and  up  the  bay,  with  no 
spare  moments  to  devote  to  the  particular 
fisherman  who  ran  a  Chinese  line  in  the 
bight  of  Turner's  Shipyard.  We  had  called 
in  at  Selby's  Smelter  one  afternoon,  while 
on  patrol  work,  when  all  unknown  to  us 
cur  opportunity  happened  along.  It  ap- 
peared in  the  guise  of  a  helpless  yacht  loaded 
with  seasick  people,  so  we  could  hardly  be 
expected  to  recognize  it  as  the  opportunity. 
It  was  a  large  sloop-yacht,  and  it  was  help- 
less inasmuch  as  the  trade-wind  was  blowing 
half  a  gale  and  there  were  no  capable  sailors 
aboard. 

From  the  wharf  at  Selby's  we  watched 
with  careless  interest  the  lubberly  manoeu- 
vre performed  of  bringing  the  yacht  to 
anchor,  and  the  equally  lubberly  manoeuvre 


6*     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS 

of  sending  the  small  boat  ashore.  A  very 
miserable-looking  man  in  draggled  ducks, 
after  nearly  swamping  the  boat  in  the  heavy 
seas,  passed  us  the  painter  and  climbed 
out.  He  staggered  about  as  though  the 
wharf  were  rolling,  and  told  us  his  troubles, 
which  were  the  troubles  of  the  yacht.  The 
only  rough-weather  sailor  aboard,  the  man 
on  whom  they  all  depended,  had  been  called 
back  to  San  Francisco  by  a  telegram,  and 
they  had  attempted  to  continue  the  cruise 
alone.  The  high  wind  and  big  seas  of  San 
Pablo  Bay  had  been  too  much  for  them; 
all  hands  were  sick,  nobody  knew  any- 
thing or  could  do  anything;  and  so  they 
had  run  in  to  the  smelter  either  to  desert 
the  yacht  or  to  get  somebody  to  bring  it 
to  Benicia.  In  short,  did  we  know  of 
any  sailors  who  would  bring  the  yacht  into 
Benicia  ? 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     63 

Charley  looked  at  me.  The  Reindeer 
was  lying  in  a  snug  place.  We  had  noth- 
ing on  hand  in  the  way  of  patrol  work  till 
midnight.  With  the  wind  then  blowing, 
we  could  sail  the  yacht  into  Benicia  in  a 
couple  of  hours,  have  several  more  hours 
ashore,  and  come  back  to  the  smelter  on 
the  evening  train. 

"All  right,  captain,"  Charley  said  to  the 
disconsolate  yachtcman,  who  smiled  in  sickly 
fashion  at  the  title. 

"Fm  only  the  owner,"  he  explained. 

We  rowed  him  aboard  in  much  better 
style  than  he  had  come  ashore,  and  saw  for 
ourselves  the  helplessness  of  the  passengers. 
There  were  a  dozen  men  and  women,  and 
all  of  them  too  sick  even  to  appear  grateful 
at  our  coming.  The  yacht  was  rolling 
savagely,  broad  on,  and  no  sooner  had  the 
owner's  feet  touched  the  deck  than  he  col- 


64     THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

lapsed  and  joined  the  others.  Not  one 
was  able  to  bear  a  hand,  so  Charley  and  I 
between  us  cleared  the  badly  tangled  running 
gear,  got  up  sail,  and  hoisted  anchor. 

It  was  a  rough  trip,  though  a  swift  one. 
The  Carquinez  Straits  were  a  welter  of 
foam  and  smother,  and  we  came  through 
them  wildly  before  the  wind,  the  big  main- 
sail alternately  dipping  and  flinging  its 
boom  skyward  as  we  tcCfc  along.  But  the 
people  did  not  mind.  They  did  not  mind 
anything.  Two  or  three,  including  the 
owner,  sprawled  in  the  cockpit,  shudder- 
ing when  the  yacht  lifted  and  raced  and 
sank  dizzily  into  the  trough,  and  between- 
whiles  regarding  the  shore  with  yearning 
eyes.  The  rest  were  huddled  on  the  cabin 
floor  among  the  cushions.  Now  and  again 
some  one  groaned,  but  for  the  most  part 
they  were  as  limp  as  so  many  dead  persons* 


THE    KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     65 

As  the  bight  at  Turner's  Shipyard  opened 
out,  Charley  edged  into  it  to  get  the 
smoother  water.  Benicia  was  in  view,  and 
we  were  bowling  along  over  comparatively 
easy  water,  when  a  speck  of  a  boat  danced 
up  ahead  of  us,  directly  in  our  course.  It 
was  low-water  slack.  Charley  and  I  looked 
at  each  other.  No  word  was  spoken,  but 
at  once  the  yacht  began  a  most  astonishing 
performance,  veering  and  yawing  as  though 
the  greenest  of  amateurs  was  at  the  wheel. 
It  was  a  sight  for  sailormen  to  see.  To  all 
appearances,  a  runaway  yacht  was  career- 
ing madly  over  the  bight,  and  now  and 
again  yielding  a  little  bit  to  control  in  a 
desperate  effort  to  make  Benicia. 

The  owner  forgot  his  seasickness  long 
enough  to  look  anxious.  The  speck  of  a 
boat  grew  larger  and  larger,  till  we  could 
see  Big  Alec  and  his  partner,  with  a  turn 


66     THE    KING   OF   THE    GREEKS 

of  the  sturgeon  line  around  a  cleat,  resting 
from  their  labor  to  laugh  at  us.  Charley 
pulled  his  sou'wester  over  his  eyes,  and  I 
followed  his  example,  though  I  could  not 
guess  the  idea  he  evidently  had  in  mind  and 
intended  to  carry  into  execution. 

We  came  foaming  down  abreast  of  the  skiff, 
so  close  that  we  could  hear  above  the  wind  the 
voices  of  Big  Alec  and  his  mate  as  they 
shouted  at  us  with  all  the  scorn  that  profes- 
sional watermen  feel  for  amateurs,  especially 
when  amateurs  are  making  fools  of  themselves. 

We  thundered  on  past  the  fishermen,  and 
nothing  had  happened.  Charley  grinned 
at  the  disappointment  he  saw  in  my  face, 
and  then  shouted: 

"Stand  by  the  main-sheet  to  jibe!" 

He  put  the  wheel  hard  over,  and  the 
yacht  whirled  around  obediently.  The 
main-sheet  slacked  and  dipped,  then  shot 


THE    KING   OF  THE   GREEKS    67 

over  our  heads  after  the  boom  and  tautened 
with  a  crash  on  the  traveller.  The  yacht 
heeled  over  almost  on  her  beam  ends,  and 
a  great  wail  went  up  from  the  seasick  pas- 
sengers as  they  swept  across  the  cabin  flooi 
in  a  tangled  mass  and  piled  into  a  heap  in 
the  starboard  bunks. 

But  we  had  no  time  for  them.  The 
yacht,  completing  the  manoeuvre,  headed 
into  the  wind  with  slatting  canvas,  and 
righted  to  an  even  keel.  We  were  still 
plunging  ahead,  and  directly  in  our  path 
was  the  skiff.  I  saw  Big  Alec  dive  over- 
board and  his  mate  leap  for  our  bowsprit. 
Then  came  the  crash  as  we  struck  the  boat, 
and  a  series  of  grinding  bumps  as  it  passed 
under  our  bottom. 

"That  fixes  his  rifle,"  I  heard  Charley 
mutter,  as  he  sprang  upon  the  deck  to  look 
for  Big  Alec  somewhere  astern. 


68     THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS 

The  wind  and  sea  quickly  stopped  our 
forward  movement,  and  we  began  to  drift 
backward  over  the  spot  where  the  skiff  had 
been.  Big  Alec's  black  head  and  swarthy 
face  popped  up  within  arm's  reach;  and 
all  unsuspecting  and  very  angry  with  what 
he  took  to  be  the  clumsiness  of  amateur 
sailors,  he  was  hauled  aboard.  Also  he 
was  out  of  breath,  for  he  had  dived 
deep  and  stayed  down  long  to  escape  our 
keel. 

The  next  instant,  to  the  perplexity  and 
consternation  of  the  owner,  Charley  was  on 
top  of  Big  Alec  in  the  cockpit,  and  I  was 
helping  bind  him  with  gaskets.  The  owner 
was  dancing  excitedly  about  and  demand- 
ing an  explanation,  but  by  that  time  Big 
Alec's  partner  had  crawled  aft  from  the 
bowsprit  and  was  peering  apprehensively 
over  the  rail  into  the  cockpit.  Charley's 


THE   KING   OF   THE   GREEKS     69 

arm  shot  around  his  neck  and  the  man 
landed  on  his  back  beside  Big  Alec. 

"More  gaskets!"  Charley  shouted,  and 
I  made  haste  to  supply  them. 

The  wrecked  skiff  was  rolling  sluggishly 
a  short  distance  to  windward,  and  I  trimmed 
the  sheets  while  Charley  took  the  wheel 
and  steered  for  it. 

"These  two  men  are  old  offenders/'  he 
explained  to  the  angry  owner;  "and  they 
are  most  persistent  violators  of  the  fish  and 
game  laws.  You  have  seen  them  caught 
in  the  act,  and  you  may  expect  to  be  sub- 
poenaed as  witness  for  the  state  when  the 
trial  comes  off." 

As  he  spoke  he  rounded  alongside  the 
skiff.  It  had  been  torn  from  the  line,  a 
section  of  which  was  dragging  to  it.  He 
hauled  in  forty  or  fifty  feet  with  a  young 
sturgeon  still  fast  in  a  tangle  of  barbless 


70    THE   KING  OF  THE   GREEKS 

hooks,  slashed  that  much  of  the  line  free 
with  his  knife,  and  tossed  it  into  the  cockpit 
beside  the  prisoners. 

"And  there's  the  evidence,  Exhibit  A,  for 
the  people,"  Charley  continued.  "Look  it 
over  carefully  so  that  you  may  identify  it 
in  the  court-room  with  the  time  and  place 
of  capture." 

And  then,  in  triumph,  with  no  more 
veering  and  yawing,  we  sailed  into  Benicia, 
the  King  of  the  Greeks  bound  hard  and 
fast  in  the  cockpit,  and  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life  a  prisoner  of  the  fish  patrol. 


Ill 

A  RAID  ON  THE   OYSTER 
PIRATES 


A   RAID   ON   THE   OYSTER 
PIRATES 

OF  the  fish  patrolmen  under  whom 
we  served  at  various  times,  Charley 
Le  Grant  and  I  were  agreed,  I 
think,  that  Neil  Partington  was  the  best. 
He  was  neither  dishonest  nor  cowardly;  and 
while  he  demanded  strict  obedience  when  we 
were  under  his  orders,  at  the  same  time  our 
relations  were  those  of  easy  comradeship, 
and  he  permitted  us  a  freedom  to  which  we 
were  ordinarily  unaccustomed,  as  the  present 
story  will  show. 

Neil's  family  lived  in  Oakland,  which  is 
on  the  Lower  Bay,  not  more  than  six  miles 
across  the  water  from  San  Francisco.  One 
day,,  while  scouting  among  the  Chinese 
shrimp-catchers  of  Point  Pedro,  he  received 

73 


74    A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

word  that  his  wife  was  very  ill;  and 
within  the  hour  the  Reindeer  was  bowling 
along  for  Oakland,  with  a  stiff  northwest 
breeze  astern.  We  ran  up  the  Oakland 
Estuary  and  came  to  anchor,  and  in  the 
days  that  followed,  while  Neil  was  ashore, 
we  tightened  up  the  Reindeer's  rigging, 
overhauled  the  ballast,  scraped  down,  and 
put  the  sloop  into  thorough  shape. 

This  done,  time  hung  heavy  on  our 
hands.  Neil's  wife  was  dangerously  ill,  and 
the  outlook  was  a  week's  lie-over,  awaiting 
the  crisis.  Charley  and  I  roamed  the  docks, 
wondering  what  we  should  do,  and  so  came 
upon  the  oyster  fleet  lying  at  the  Oakland 
City  Wharf.  In  the  main  they  were  trim, 
natty  boats,  made  for  speed  and  bad  weather, 
and  we  sat  down  on  the  stringer-piece  of 
the  dock  to  study  them. 

"A  good  catch,   I    guess,"   Charley  said, 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     75 

pointing  to  the  heaps  of  oysters,  assorted 
in  three  sizes,  which  lay  upon  their  decks. 

Pedlers  were  backing  their  wagons  to 
the  edge  of  the  wharf,  and  from  the  bar- 
gaining and  chaffering  that  went  on,  I 
managed  to  learn  the  selling  price  of  the 
oysters. 

"That  boat  must  have  at  least  two  hun- 
dred dollars'  worth  aboard,"  I  calculated. 
"I  wonder  how  long  it  took  to  get  the 
load  ?" 

"Three  or  four  days,"  Charley  answered. 
"Not  bad  wages  for  two  men  —  twenty- 
five  dollars  a  day  apiece." 

The  boat  we  were  discussing,  the  Ghost, 
lay  directly  beneath  us.  Two  men  com- 
posed its  crew.  One  was  a  squat,  broad- 
shouldered  fellow  with  remarkably  long  and 
gorilla-like  arms,  while  the  other  was  tall 
and  well  proportioned,  with  clear  blue  eyes 


76     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

and  a  mat  of  straight  black  hair.  So  un- 
usual and  striking  was  this  combination  of 
hair  and  eyes  that  Charley  and  I  remained 
somewhat  longer  than  we  intended. 

And  it  was  well  that  we  did.  A  stout, 
elderly  man,  with  the  dress  and  carnage  of 
a  successful  merchant,  came  up  and  stood 
beside  us,  looking  down  upon  the  deck  of 
the  Ghost.  He  appeared  angry,  and  the 
longer  he  looked  the  angrier  he  grew. 

"Those  are  my  oysters,"  he  said  at  last. 
"I  know  they  are  my  oysters.  You  raided 
my  beds  last  night  and  robbed  me  of  them." 

The  tall  man  and  the  short  man  on  the 
Ghost  looked  up. 

"Hello,  Taft,"  the  short  man  said,  with 
insolent  familiarity.  (Among  the  bayfarers 
he  had  gained  the  nickname  of  "The  Cen- 
tipede" on  account  of  his  long  arms.) 
"Hello,  Taft,"  he  repeated,  with  the  same 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     77 

touch  of  insolence.  "Wot  'r  you  growlin* 
about  now?" 

"  Those  are  my  oysters  —  that's  what  I 
said.  You've  stolen  them  from  my  beds." 

"Yer  mighty  wise,  ain't  ye?"  was  the 
Centipede's  sneering  reply.  "S'pose  you 
can  tell  your  oysters  wherever  you  see  'em  ?" 

<:Now,  in  my  experience,"  broke  in  th* 
tall  man,  "oysters  is  oysters  wherever  you 
find  'em,  an'  they're  pretty  much  alike  all 
the  Bay  over,  and  the  world  over,  too,  for 
that  matter.  We're  not  wantin'  to  quarrel 
with  you,  Mr.  Taft,  but  we  jes'  wish  you 
wouldn't  insinuate  that  them  oysters  is 
yours  an'  that  we're  thieves  an'  robbers  till 
you  can  prove  the  goods." 

"I  know  they're  mine;  I'd  stake  my 
life  on  it!"  Mr.  Taft  snorted. 

"Prove  it,"  challenged  the  tall  man, 
who  we  afterward  learned  was  known  as 


78     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

"The  Porpoise"  because  of  his  wonderful 
swimming  abilities. 

Mr.  Taft  shrugged  his  shoulders  help- 
lessly. Of  course  he  could  not  prove  the 
oysters  to  be  his,  no  matter  how  certain 
he  might  be. 

"I'd  give  a  thousand  dollars  to  have 
you  men  behind  the  bars!"  he  cried.  "I'll 
give  fifty  dollars  a  head  for  your  arrest  and 
conviction,  all  of  you ! " 

A  roar  of  laughter  went  up  from  the 
different  boats,  for  the  rest  of  the  pirates 
had  been  listening  to  the  discussion. 

"There's  more  money  in  oysters,"  the 
Porpoise  remarked  dryly. 

Mr.  Taft  turned  impatiently  on  his  heel 
and  walked  away.  From  out  of  the  corner 
of  his  eye,  Charley  noted  the  way  he  went. 
Several  minutes  later,  when  he  had  dis- 
appeared around  a  corner,  Charley  rose 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     79 

lazily  to  his  feet.  I  followed  him,  and  we 
sauntered  off  in  the  opposite  direction  to 
that  taken  by  Mr.  Taft. 

"Come  on!  Lively!"  Charley  whispered, 
when  we  passed  from  the  view  of  the  oyster 
fleet. 

Our  course  was  changed  at  once,  and 
we  dodged  around  corners  and  raced  up 
and  down  side-streets  till  Mr.Taft's  generous 
form  loomed  up  ahead  of  us. 

"I'm  going  to  interview  him  about  that 
reward,"  Charley  explained,  as  we  rapidly 
overhauled  the  oyster-bed  owner.  "  Neil  will 
be  delayed  here  for  a  week,  and  you  and  I 
might  as  well  be  doing  something  in  the 
meantime.  What  do  you  say?" 

"Of  course,  of  course,"  Mr.  Taft  said, 
when  Charley  had  introduced  himself  and 
explained  his  errand.  "Those  thieves  are 
robbing  me  of  thousands  of  dollars  every 


8o    A  RAID  ON  OUSTER  PIRATES 

year,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  break  them 
up  at  any  price, — yes,  sir,  at  any  price.  As 
I  said,  Pll  give  fifty  dollars  a  head,  and 
call  it  cheap  at  that.  They've  robbed  my 
beds,  torn  down  my  signs,  terrorized  my 
watchmen,  and  last  year  killed  one  of  them. 
Couldn't  prove  it.  All  done  in  the  black- 
ness of  night.  Ail  I  had  was  a  dead  watch- 
man and  no  evidence.  The  detectives  could 
do  nothing.  Nobody  has  been  able  to  do 
anything  with  those  men.  We  have  never 
succeeded  in  arresting  one  of  them.  So  I 
say,  Mr. —  What  did  you  say  your  name 
was  I" 

"Le  Grant,"  Charley  answered. 

"So  I  say,  Mr.  Le  Grant,  I  am  deeply 
obliged  to  you  for  the  assistance  you  offer. 
And  I  shall  be  glad,  most  glad,  sir,  to  co- 
operate with  you  in  every  way.  My  watch- 
men and  boats  are  at  your  disposal.  Come 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     81 

and  see  me  at  the  San  Francisco  offices 
any  time,  or  telephone  at  my  expense.  And 
don't  be  afraid  of  spending  money.  I'll 
foot  your  expenses,  whatever  they  are,  so 
long  as  they  are  within  reason.  The  situa- 
tion is  growing  desperate,  and  something 
must  be  clone  to  determine  whether  I  or 
that  band  of  ruffians  own  those  oyster 
beds." 

"Now  we'll  see  Neil,"  Charley  said, 
when  he  had  seen  Mr.  Taft  upon  his  train 
to  San  Francisco. 

Not  only  did  Neil  Partington  interpose 
no  obstacle  to  our  adventure,  but  he  proved 
to  be  of  the  greatest  assistance.  Charley 
and  I  knew  nothing  of  the  oyster  industry, 
while  his  head  was  an  encyclopaedia  of 
facts  concerning  it.  Also,  within  an  hour 
or  so,  he  was  able  to  bring  to  us  a  Greek 
boy  of  seventeen  or  eighteen  who  knew 


82     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

thoroughly  well  the  ins  and  outs  of  oyster 
piracy. 

At  this  point  I  may  as  well  explain  that 
we  of  the  fish  patrol  were  free  lances  in  a 
way.  While  Neil  Partington,  who  was  a 
patrolman  proper,  received  a  regular  salary, 
Charley  and  I,  being  merely  deputies,  re- 
ceived only  what  we  earned  —  that  is  to 
say,  a  certain  percentage  of  the  fines  im- 
posed on  convicted  violators  of  the  fish 
laws.  Also,  any  rewards  that  chanced  our 
way  were  ours.  We  offered  to  share  with 
Partington  whatever  we  should  get  from 
Mr.  Taft,  but  the  patrolman  would  not 
hear  of  it.  He  was  only  too  happy,  he 
said,  to  do  a  good  turn  for  us,  who  had 
done  so  many  for  him. 

We  held  a  long  council  of  war,  and 
mapped  out  the  following  line  of  action. 
Our  faces  were  unfamiliar  on  the  Lower 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     83 

Bay,  but  as  the  Reindeer  was  well  known 
as  a  fish-patrol  sloop,  the  Greek  boy,  whose 
name  was  Nicholas,  and  I  were  to  sail  some 
innocent-looking  craft  down  to  Asparagus 
Island  and  join  the  oyster  pirates'  fleet. 
Here,  according  to  Nicholas's  description 
of  the  beds  and  the  manner  of  raiding,  it 
was  possible  for  us  to  catch  the  pirates  in 
the  act  of  stealing  oysters,  and  at  the  same 
time  to  get  them  in  our  power.  Charley 
was  to  be  on  the  shore,  with  Mr.  Taft's 
watchmen  and  a  posse  of  constables,  to 
help  us  at  the  right  time. 

"I  know  just  the  boat,"  Neil  said,  at  the 
conclusion  of  the  discussion,  "a  crazy  old 
sloop  that's  lying  over  at  Tiburon.  You 
and  Nicholas  can  go  over  by  the  ferry, 
charter  it  for  a  song,  and  sail  direct  for  the 
beds." 

"Good  luck  be  with  you,  boys,"  he  said 


84    A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

at  parting,  two  days  later.  "Remember, 
they  are  dangerous  men,  so  be  careful." 

Nicholas  and  I  succeeded  in  chartering 
the  sloop  very  cheaply;  and  between  laughs, 
while  getting  up  sail,  we  agreed  that  she 
was  even  crazier  and  older  than  she  had 
been  described.  She  was  a  big,  flat-bot- 
tomed, square-sterned  craft,  sloop-rigged, 
with  a  sprung  mast,  slack  rigging,  dilapi- 
dated sails,  and  rotten  running-gear,  clumsy 
to  handle  and  uncertain  in  bringing  about, 
and  she  smelled  vilely  of  coal  tar,  with 
which  strange  stuff  she  had  been  smeared 
from  stem  to  stern  and  from  cabin-roof  to 
centreboard.  And  to  cap  it  all,  Coal  Tar 
Maggie  was  printed  in  great  white  letters 
the  whole  length  of  either  side. 

It  was  an  uneventful  though  laughable 
run  from  Tiburon  to  Asparagus  Island, 
where  we  arrived  in  the  afternoon  of  the 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     85 

following  day.  The  oyster  pirates,  a  fleet 
of  a  dozen  sloops,  were  lying  at  anchor  on 
what  was  known  as  the  "Deserted  Beds." 
The  Coal  Tar  Maggie  came  sloshing  into 
their  midst  with  a  light  breeze  astern,  and 
they  crowded  on  deck  to  see  us.  Nicholas 
and  I  had  caught  the  spirit  cf  the  crazy 
craft,  and  we  handled  her  in  most  lubberly 
fashion. 

"Wot  is  it?"    some  one  called. 

"Name  it  V  ye  kin  have  it!"  called 
another. 

"I  swan  naow,  ef  it  ain't  the  old  Ark 
itself"  mimicked  the  Centipede  from  the 
deck  of  the  Ghost. 

"Hey!  Ahoy  there,  clipper  ship!"  an- 
other wag  shouted.  "Wot's  yer  port?" 

We  took  no  notice  of  the  joking,  but 
acted,  after  the  manner  of  greenhorns,  as 
though  the  Coal  Tar  Maggie  required  our 


86     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

undivided  attention.  I  rounded  her  well  to 
windward  of  the  Ghost,  and  Nicholas  ran 
for'ard  to  drop  the  anchor.  To  all  ap- 
pearances it  was  a  bungle,  the  way  the 
chain  tangled  and  kept  the  anchor  from 
reaching  the  bottom.  And  to  all  appear- 
ances Nicholas  and  I  were  terribly  excited 
as  we  strove  to  clear  it.  At  any  rate,  we 
quite  deceived  the  pirates,  who  took  huge 
delight  in  our  predicament. 

But  the  chain  remained  tangled,  and 
amid  all  kinds  cf  mocking  advice  we  drifted 
down  upon  and  fouled  the  Ghost,  whose 
bowsprit  poked  square  through  our  main- 
sail and  ripped  a  hole  in  it  as  big  as  a  barn 
door.  The  Centipede  and  the  Porpoise 
doubled  up  on  the  cabin  in  paroxysms  of 
laughter,  and  left  us  to  get  clear  as  best  we 
could.  This,  with  much  unseamanlike  per- 
formance, we  succeeded  in  doing,  and  like- 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     87 

wise  in  clearing  the  anchor-chain,  of  which 
we  let  out  about  three  hundred  feet.  With 
only  ten  feet  of  water  under  us,  this  would 
permit  the  Coal  Tar  Maggie  to  swing  in  a 
circle  six  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  in  which 
circle  she  would  be  able  to  foul  at  least  half 
the  fleet. 

The  oyster  pirates  lay  snugly  together  at 
short  hawsers,  the  weather  being  fine,  and 
they  protested  loudly  at  our  ignorance  in 
putting  out  such  an  unwarranted  length 
of  anchor-chain.  And  not  only  did  they 
protest,  for  they  made  us  heave  it  in  again, 
all  but  thirty  feet. 

Having  sufficiently  impressed  them  with 
our  general  lubberliness,  Nicholas  and  I 
went  below  to  congratulate  ourselves  and 
to  cook  supper.  Hardly  had  we  finished 
the  meal  and  washed  the  dishes,  when  a 
skiff  ground  against  the  Coal  f  ar  Maggie's 


88     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

side,  and  heavy  feet  trampled  on  deck. 
Then  the  Centipede's  brutal  face  appeared 
in  the  companionway,  and  he  descended 
into  the  cabin,  followed  by  the  Porpoise. 
Before  they  could  seat  themselves  on  a  bunk, 
another  skiff  came  alongside,  and  another, 
and  another,  till  the  whole  fleet  was  repre- 
sented by  the  gathering  in  the  cabin. 

"Where'd  you  swipe  the  old  tub  ?"  asked 
a  squat  and  hairy  man,  with  cruel  eyes  and 
Mexican  features. 

"Didn't  swipe  it,"  Nicholas  answered, 
meeting  them  on  their  own  ground  and 
encouraging  the  idea  that  we  had  stolen  the 
Coal  Tar  Maggie.  "And  if  we  did,  what 
of  it?" 

"Well,  I  don't  admire  your  taste,  that's 
all,"  sneered  he  of  the  Mexican  features. 
"I'd  rot  on  the  beach  first  before  I'd  take 
*  tub  that  couldn't  get  out  of  its  own  way.* 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     89 

"  How  were  we  to  know  till  we  tried  her  ? " 
Nicholas  asked,  so  innocently  as  to  cause  a 
laugh.  "And  how  do  you  get  the  oysters?" 
he  hurried  on.  "We  want  a  load  of  them; 
that's  what  we  came  for,  a  load  of  oysters." 

"What  d'ye  want  'em  for?"  demanded 
the  Porpoise. 

"Oh,  to  give  away  to  our  friends,  of 
course,"  Nicholas  retorted.  "That's  what 
you  do  with  yours,  I  suppose." 

This  started  another  laugh,  and  as  our 
visitors  grew  more  genial  we  could  see  that 
they  had  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  out 
identity  or  purpose. 

"Didn't  I  see  you  on  the  dock  in  Oak- 
land the  other  day?"  the  Centipede  asked 
suddenly  of  me. 

"Yep,"  I  answered  boldly,  taking  the 
bull  by  the  horns.  "I  was  watching  you 
fellows  and  figuring  out  whether  we'd  go 


9o     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

oystering  or  not.  It's  a  pretty  good  busi- 
ness, I  calculate,  and  so  we're  going  in  for 
it.  That  is,"  I  hastened  to  add,  "if  you 
fellows  don't  mind." 

"I'll  tell  you  one  thing,  which  ain't  two 
things,"  he  replied,  "and  that  is  you'll 
have  to  hump  yerself  an'  get  a  better  boat. 
We  won't  stand  to  be  disgraced  by  any  such 
box  as  this.  Understand  ?" 

"Sure,"  I  said.  "Soon  as  we  sell  some 
oysters  we'll  outfit  in  style." 

"And  if  you  show  yerself  square  an*  the 
right  sort,"  he  went  on,  "why,  you  kin 
run  with  us.  But  if  you  don't"  (here  his 
voice  became  stern  and  menacing),  "why, 
it'll  be  the  sickest  day  of  yer  life.  Under- 
stand?" 

"Sure,"  I  said. 

After  that  and  more  warning  and  advice 
of  similar  nature,  the  conversation  became 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     91 

general,  and  we  learned  that  the  beds  were 
to  be  raided  that  very  night.  As  they  got 
into  their  boats,  after  an  hour's  stay,  we 
were  invited  to  join  them  in  the  raid  with 
the  assurance  of  "the  more  the  merrier." 

"Did  you  notice  that  short,  Mexican- 
looking  chap  ?"  Nicholas  asked,  when  they 
had  departed  to  their  various  sloops.  "He's 
Barchi,  of  the  Sporting  Life  Gang,  and 
the  fellow  that  came  with  him  is  Skilling. 
They're  both  out  now  on  five  thousand 
dollars'  bail." 

I  had  heard  of  the  Sporting  Life  Gang 
before,  a  crowd  of  hoodlums  and  criminals 
that  terrorized  the  lower  quarters  of  Oak- 
land, and  two-thirds  of  which  were  usually 
to  be  found  in  state's  prison  for  crimes  that 
ranged  from  perjury  and  ballot-box  stuffing 
to  murder. 

"They    are   not    regular    oyster    pirates," 


92     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

Nicholas  continued.  "They've  just  come 
down  for  the  lark  and  to  make  a  few  dollars. 
But  we'll  have  to  watch  out  for  them." 

We  sat  in  the  cockpit  and  discussed  the 
details  of  our  plan  till  eleven  o'clock  had 
passed,  when  we  heard  the  rattle  of  an  oar 
in  a  boat  from  the  direction  of  the  Ghost. 
We  hauled  up  our  own  skiff,  tossed  in  a  few 
sacks,  and  rowed  over.  There  we  found 
*11  the  skiffs  assembling,  it  being  the  in- 
tention to  raid  the  beds  in  a  body. 

To  my  surprise,  I  found  barely  a  foot  of 
water  where  we  had  dropped  anchor  in  ten 
feet.  It  was  the  big  June  run-out  of  the 
full  moon,  and  as  the  ebb  had  yet  an  hour 
and  a  half  to  run,  I  knew  that  our  anchorage 
would  be  dry  ground  before  slack  water. 

Mr.  Taft's  beds  were  three  miles  away, 
and  for  a  long  time  we  rowed  silently  in  the 
wake  of  the  other  boats,  once  in  a  while 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     93 

grounding  and  our  oar  blades  constantly 
striking  bottom.  At  last  we  came  upon 
soft  mud  covered  with  not  more  than  two 
inches  of  water  —  not  enough  to  float  the 
boats.  But  the  pirates  at  once  were  over 
the  side,  and  by  pushing  and  pulling  on 
the  flat-bottomed  skiffs,  we  moved  steadily 
along. 

The  full  moon  was  partly  obscured  by 
high-flying  clouds,  but  the  pirates  went 
their  way  with  the  familiarity  born  of  long 
practice.  After  half  a  mile  of  the  mud, 
we  came  upon  a  deep  channel,  up  which 
we  rowed,  with  dead  oyster  shoals  looming 
high  and  dry  on  either  side.  At  last  we 
reached  the  picking  grounds.  Two  men, 
on  one  of  the  shoals,  hailed  us  and  warned 
us  off.  But  the  Centipede,  the  Porpoise, 
Barchi,  and  Skilling  took  the  lead,  and  fol- 
lowed by  the  rest  of  us,  at  least  thirty  men 


94    A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

in  half  as  many  boats,  rowed  right  up  to 
the  watchmen. 

"You'd  better  slide  outa  this  here," 
Barchi  said  threateningly,  "or  we'll  fill 
you  so  full  of  holes  you  wouldn't  float  in 
molasses." 

The  watchmen  wisely  retreated  before  so 
overwhelming  a  force,  and  rowed  their 
boat  along  the  channel  toward  where  the 
shore  should  be.  Besides,  it  was  in  the 
plan  for  them  to  retreat. 

We  hauled  the  noses  of  the  boats  up  on 
the  shore  side  of  a  big  shoal,  and  all  hands, 
with  sacks,  spread  out  and  began  picking. 
Every  now  and  again  the  clouds  thinned 
before  the  face  of  the  moon,  and  we  could 
see  the  big  oysters  quite  distinctly.  In  al- 
most no  time  sacks  were  filled  and  carried 
back  to  the  boats,  where  fresh  ones  were 
obtained.  Nicholas  and  I  returned  often 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     95 

and  anxiously  to  the  boats  with  our  little 
loads,  but  always  found  some  one  of  the 
pirates  coming  or  going. 

"Never  mind,"  he  said;  "no  hurry.  As 
they  pick  farther  and  farther  away,  it  will 
take  too  long  to  carry  to  the  boats.  Then 
they'll  stand  the  full  sacks  on  end  and  pick 
them  up  when  the  tide  comes  in  and  the 
skiffs  will  float  to  them." 

Fully  half  an  hour  went  by,  and  the  tide 
had  begun  to  flood,  when  this  came  to  pass. 
Leaving  the  pirates  at  their  work,  we  stole 
back  to  the  boats.  One  by  one,  and  noise- 
lessly, we  shoved  them  off  and  made  them 
fast  in  an  awkward  flotilla.  Just  as  we 
were  shoving  off  the  last  skiff,  our  own,  one 
of  the  men  came  upon  us.  It  was  Barchi. 
His  quick  eye  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance,  and  he  sprang  for  us;  but  we  went 
clear  with  a  mighty  shove,  and  he  was  left 


96     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

floundering  in  the  water  over  his  head. 
As  soon  as  he  got  back  to  the  shoal  he  raised 
his  voice  and  gave  the  alarm. 

We  rowed  with  all  our  strength,  but  it 
was  slow  going  with  so  many  boats  in  tow. 
A  pistol  cracked  from  the  shoal,  a  second, 
and  a  third;  then  a  regular  fusillade  began. 
The  bullets  spat  and  spat  all  about  us; 
but  thick  clouds  had  covered  the  moon,  and 
in  the  dim  darkness  it  was  no  more  than 
random  firing.  It  was  only  by  chance 
that  we  could  be  hit. 

"Wish  we  had  a  little  steam  launch,"  I 
panted. 

"I'd  just  as  soon  the  moon  stayed  hid- 
den/' Nicholas  panted  back. 

It  was  slow  work,  but  every  stroke  carried 
us  farther  away  from  the  shoal  and  nearer 
the  shore,  till  at  last  the  shooting  died  down, 
and  when  the  moon  did  come  out  we  were 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     97 

too  far  away  to  be  in  danger.  Not  long 
afterward  we  answered  a  shoreward  hail, 
and  two  Whitehall  boats,  each  pulled  by 
three  pairs  of  oars,  darted  up  to  us.  Char- 
ley's welcome  face  bent  over  to  us,  and  he 
gripped  us  by  the  hands  while  he  cried, 
"  Oh,  you  joys !  You  joys !  Both  of  you ! " 

When  the  flotilla  had  been  landed,  Nicho- 
las and  I  and  a  watchman  rowed  out  in  one 
of  the  Whitehalls,  with  Charley  in  the  stern- 
sheets.  Two  other  Whitehalls  followed  us, 
and  as  the  moon  now  shone  brightly,  we 
easily  made  out  the  oyster  pirates  on  their 
lonely  shoal.  As  we  drew  closer,  they  fired 
a  rattling  volley  from  their  revolvers,  an<^ 
we  promptly  retreated  beyond  range. 

"Lot  of  time,"  Charley  said.  "The  flood 
is  setting  in  fast,  and  by  the  time  it's  up  to 
their  necks  there  won't  be  any  fight  left 
in  them." 


98     A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

So  we  lay  on  our  oars  and  waited  for  the 
tide  to  do  its  work.  This  was  the  pre- 
dicament of  the  pirates:  because  of  the 
big  run-out,  the  tide  was  now  rushing  back 
like  a  mill-race,  and  it  was  impossible  for 
the  strongest  swimmer  in  the  world  to  make 
against  it  the  three  miles  to  the  sloops. 
Between  the  pirates  and  the  shore  were  we, 
precluding  escape  in  that  direction.  On 
the  other  hand,  the  water  was  rising  rapidly 
over  the  shoals,  and  it  was  only  a  question 
of  a  few  hours  when  it  would  be  over  their 
heads. 

It  was  beautifully  calm,  and  in  the  brill- 
iant white  moonlight  we  watched  them 
through  our  night  glasses  and  told  Charley 
of  the  voyage  of  the  Coal  Tar  Maggie. 
One  o'clock  came,  and  two  o'clock,  and 
the  pirates  were  clustering  on  the  highest 
shoal,  waist-deep  in  water. 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES     99 

"Now  this  illustrates  the  value  of  imagi- 
nation," Charley  was  saying.  "Taft  has 
been  trying  for  years  to  get  them,  but  he 
went  at  it  with  bull  strength  and  failed. 
Now  we  used  our  heads  .  .  ." 

Just  then  I  heard  a  scarcely  audible 
gurgle  of  water,  and  holding  up  my  hand 
for  silence,  I  turned  and  pointed  to  a  ripple 
slowly  widening  out  in  a  growing  circle. 
It  was  not  more  than  fifty  feet  from  us. 
We  kept  perfectly  quiet  and  waited.  After 
a  minute  the  water  broke  six  feet  away 
and  a  black  head  and  white  shoulder 
showed  in  the  moonlight.  With  a  snort  of 
surprise  and  of  suddenly  expelled  breath, 
the  head  and  shoulder  went  down. 

We  pulled  ahead  several  strokes  and 
drifted  with  the  current.  Four  pairs  of 
eyes  searched  the  surface  of  the  water, 
but  never  another  ripple  showed,  and  never 


loo   A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 

another  glimpse  did  we  catch  of  the  black 
head  and  white  shoulder. 

"It's  the  Porpoise,"  Nicholas  said.  "It 
would  take  broad  daylight  for  us  to  catch 
him/' 

At  a  quarter  to  three  the  pirates  gave 
their  first  sign  of  weakening.  We  heard 
cries  for  help,  in  the  unmistakable  voice  of 
the  Centipede,  and  this  time,  on  rowing 
closer,  we  were  not  fired  upon.  The  Cen- 
tipede was  in  a  truly  perilous  plight.  Only 
the  heads  and  shoulders  of  his  fellow-ma- 
rauders showed  above  the  water  as  they 
braced  themselves  against  the  current,  while 
his  feet  were  off  the  bottom  and  they  were 
supporting  him. 

"Now,  lads,"  Charley  said  briskly,  "we 
have  got  you,  and  you  can't  get  away. 
If  you  cut  up  rough,  we'll  have  to  leave 
you  alone  and  the  water  will  finish  you. 


A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES    101 

But  if  you're  good,  we'll  take  you  aboard, 
one  man  at  a  time,  and  you'll  all  be  saved. 
What  do  you  say  ?" 

"Ay,"  they  chorused  hoarsely  between 
their  chattering  teeth. 

"Then  one  man  at  a  time,  and  the  short 
men  first." 

The  Centipede  was  the  first  to  be  pulled 
aboard,  and  he  came  willingly,  though  he 
objected  when  the  constable  put  the  hand- 
cuffs on  him.  Barchi  was  next  hauled  in, 
quite  meek  and  resigned  from  his  soaking. 
When  we  had  ten  in  our  boat  we  drew  back, 
and  the  second  Whitehall  was  loaded.  The 
third  Whitehall  received  nine  prisoners  only 
—  a  catch  of  twenty-nine  in  all. 

"You  didn't  get  the  Porpoise,"  the  Cen- 
tipede said  exultantly,  as  though  his  escape 
materially  diminished  our  success. 

Charley  laughed.    "But  we  saw  him  just 


102    A  RAID  ON  OYSTER  PIRATES 
the  same,  a-snornng  for  shore  like  a  puffing 

P,V 

ft  was  a  mild  and  shivering  band  of  pi* 
rates  that  we  marched  up  the  beach  to  the 
oyster  house.  In  answer  to  Charle/s  knock* 
the  door  was  flung  open,  and  a  pleasant 
wave  of  warm  atr  rushed  out  upon  us. 

"You  can  dry  your  clothes  here,  ladsv 
and  get  some  hot  coffee/'  Charley  an* 
nounced,  as  they  filed  in. 

And  there,  sitting  ruefully  by  the  fire, 
with  a  steaming  mug  in  his  hand,  was  the 
Porpoise.  With  one  accord  Nicholas  and 
I  looked  at  Charley  He  laughed  gleefully. 

''That  comes  of  imagination/*  he  said. 
"When  you  see  a  thing,  youVe  got  to  see 
it  all  around,  or  what's  the  good  of  seeing 
it  at  all  ?  I  saw  the  beach,  so  I  left  a  couple 
of  constables  behind  to  keep  an  eye  on  it* 
That's  alt" 


IV 

THE    SIEGE   OF   THE  "LAN- 
CASHIRE   QUEEN" 


THE    SIEGE    OF  THE    "LAN- 
CASHIRE  QUEEN" 

POSSIBLY  our  most   exasperating  ex- 
perience on  the  fish  patrol  was  when 
Charley  Le  Grant  and  I  laid  a  two 
weeks'   siege   to  a  big   four-masted    English 
ship.     Before  we  had  finished  with  the  affair, 
ic   Decame    a    pretty  mathematical  problem, 
and  it  was    by  the  merest   chance   that   we 
came  into  possession  of  the  instrument  that 
brought  it  to  a  successful  termination. 

After  our  raid  on  the  oyster  pirates  we 
had  returned  to  Oakland,  where  two  more 
weeks  passed  before  Neil  Partington's  wife 
was  out  of  danger  and  on  the  highroad  to 
recovery.  So  it  was  after  an  absence  of  a 
month,  all  told,  that  we  turned  the  Rein- 
305 


<o6   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

Jeer's  nose  toward  Benicia.  When  the  cat's 
away  the  mice  will  play,  and  in  these  four 
weeks  the  fishermen  had  become  very  bold 
in  violating  the  law.  When  we  passed 
Point  Pedro  we  noticed  many  signs  of  ac- 
tivity among  the  shrimp-catchers,  and,  well 
into  San  Pablo  Bay,  we  observed  a  widely 
scattered  fleet  of  Upper  Bay  fishing-boats 
hastily  pulling  in  their  nets  and  getting  up 
sail. 

This  was  suspicious  enough  to  warrant 
investigation,  and  the  first  and  only  boat  we 
succeeded  in  boarding  proved  to  have  an 
illegal  net.  The  law  permitted  no  smaller 
mesh  for  catching  shad  than  one  that  meas- 
ured seven  and  one-half  inches  inside  the 
knots,  while  the  mesh  of  this  particular 
net  measured  only  three  inches.  It  was  a 
flagrant  breach  of  the  rules,  and  the  two 
fishermen  were  forthwith  put  under  arrest. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    107 

Neil  Partington  took  one  of  them  with  him 
to  help  manage  the  Reindeer,  while  Charley 
and  I  went  on  ahead  with  the  other  in  the 
captured  boat. 

But  the  shad  fleet  had  headed  over  to- 
ward the  Petaluma  shore  in  wild  flight, 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  run  through  San 
Pablo  Bay  we  saw  no  more  fishermen  at 
all.  Our  prisoner,  a  bronzed  and  bearded 
Greek,  sat  sullenly  on  his  net  while  we 
sailed  his  craft.  It  was  a  new  Columbia 
River  salmon  boat,  evidently  on  its  first 
trip,  and  it  handled  splendidly.  Even  when 
Charley  praised  it,  our  prisoner  refused  to 
speak  or  to  notice  us,  and  we  soon  gave  him 
up  as  a  most  unsociable  fellow. 

We  ran  up  the  Carquinez  Straits  and 
edged  into  the  bight  at  Turner's  Shipyard 
for  smoother  water.  Here  were  lying  sev- 
eral English  steel  sailing  ships,  waiting  for 


io8    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

the  wheat  harvest;  and  here,  most  unex- 
pectedly, in  the  precise  place  where  we 
had  captured  Big  Alec,  we  came  upon  two 
Italians  in  a  skiff  that  was  loaded  with  a 
complete  "Chinese"  sturgeon  line.  The  sur- 
prise was  mutual,  and  we  were  on  top  of 
them  before  either  they  or  we  were  aware. 
Charley  had  barely  time  to  luff  into  the 
wind  and  run  up  to  them.  I  ran  forward 
and  tossed  them  a  line  with  orders  to  make 
it  fast.  One  of  the  Italians  took  a  turn  with 
it  over  a  cleat,  while  I  hastened  to  lower  our 
big  spritsail.  This  accomplished,  the  salmon 
boat  dropped  astern,  dragging  heavily  on 
the  skiff. 

Charley  came  forward  to  board  the  prize, 
but  when  I  proceeded  to  haul  alongside  by 
means  of  the  line,  the  Italians  cast  it  off. 
We  at  once  began  drifting  to  leeward,  while 
they  got  out  two  pairs  of  oars  and  rowed 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    109 

their  light  craft  directly  into  the  wincL 
This  manoeuvre  for  the  moment  discon- 
certed us,  for  in  our  large  and  heavily 
loaded  boat  we  could  not  hope  to  catch 
them  with  the  oars.  But  our  prisoner  came 
unexpectedly  to  our  aid.  His  black  eyes 
were  flashing  eagerly,  and  his  face  was 
flushed  with  suppressed  excitement,  as  he 
dropped  the  centreboard,  sprang  forward 
with  a  single  leap,  and  put  up  the  sail. 

"I've  always  heard  that  Greeks  don't 
like  Italians,"  Charley  laughed,  as  he  rap 
aft  to  the  tiller. 

And  never  in  my  experience  have  I  seen 
a  man  so  anxious  for  the  capture  of  another 
as  was  our  prisoner  in  the  chase  that  fol- 
lowed. His  eyes  fairly  snapped,  and  his 
nostrils  quivered  and  dilated  in  a  most  ex- 
traordinary way.  Charley  steered  while  he 
tended  the  sheet;  and  though  Charley  was 


no  THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

as  quick  and  alert  as  a  cat,  the  Greek  could 
hardly  control  his  impatience. 

The  Italians  were  cut  off  from  the  shore, 
^hich  was  fully  a  mile  away  at  its  near- 
>st  point.  Did  they  attempt  to  make  it, 
we  could  haul  after  them  with  the  wind 
abeam,  and  overtake  them  before  they  had 
covered  an  eighth  of  the  distance.  But 
they  were  too  wise  to  attempt  it,  contenting 
themselves  with  rowing  lustily  to  windward 
along  the  starboard  side  of  a  big  ship,  the 
Lancashire  Queen.  But  beyond  the  ship 
lay  an  open  stretch  of  fully  two  miles  to  the 
shore  in  that  direction.  This,  also,  they 
dared  not  attempt,  for  we  were  bound  to 
catch  them  before  they  could  cover  it.  So, 
when  they  reached  the  bow  of  the  Lanca- 
shire Queen,  nothing  remained  but  to  pass 
around  and  row  down  her  port  side  toward 
the  stern,  which  meant  rowing  to  leeward 
and  giving  us  the  advantage. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    in 

We  in  the  salmon  boat,  sailing  close  on 
the  wind,  tacked  about  and  crossed  the 
ship's  bow.  Then  Charley  put  up  the  tiller 
and  headed  down  the  port  side  of  the  ship, 
the  Greek  letting  out  the  sheet  and  grinning 
with  delight.  The  Italians  were  already 
half-way  down  the  ship's  length;  but  the 
stiff  breeze  at  our  back  drove  us  after  them 
far  faster  than  they  could  row.  Closer  and 
closer  we  came,  and  I,  lying  down  forward, 
was  just  reaching  out  to  grasp  the  skiff, 
when  it  ducked  under  the  great  stern  of  the 
Lancashire  Queen. 

The  chase  was  virtually  where  it  had 
begun.  The  Italians  were  rowing  up  the 
starboard  side  of  the  ship,  and  we  were 
hauled  close  on  the  wind  and  slowly  edging 
out  from  the  ship  as  we  worked  to  wind- 
ward. Then  they  darted  around  her  bow 
and  began  the  row  down  her  port  side, 


>i2   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN' 

and  we  tacked  about,  crossed  her  bow,  and 
went  plunging  down  the  wind  hot  after 
them.  And  again,  just  as  I  was  reaching 
for  the  skiff,  it  ducked  under  the  ship's 
stern  and  out  of  danger.  And  so  it  went, 
around  and  around,  the  skiff  each  time  just 
barely  ducking  into  safety. 

By  this  time  the  ship's  crew  had  become 
aware  of  what  was  taking  place,  and  we 
could  see  their  heads  in  a  long  row  as  they 
looked  at  us  over  the  bulwarks.  Each 
time  we  missed  the  skiff  at  the  stern,  they 
set  up  a  wild  cheer  and  dashed  across  to 
the  other  side  of  the  Lancashire  Queen  to 
see  the  chase  to  windward.  They  show- 
ered us  and  the  Italians  with  jokes  and 
advice,  and  made  our  Greek  so  angry  that 
at  least  once  on  each  circuit  he  raised  his 
fist  and  shook  it  at  them  in  a  rage.  They 
came  to  look  for  this,  and  at  each  display 
greeted  it  with  uproarious  mirth. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    nj 

"Wot  a  circus!"    cried  one. 

"Tork  about  yer  marine  hippodromes,— 
if  this  ain't  one,  I'd  like  to  know!"  affirmed 
another. 

"  Six-days-go-as-yer-please,"  announced  a 
third.  "Who  says  the  dagoes  won't  win?" 

On  the  next  tack  to  windward  the  Greek 
offered  to  change  places  with  Charley. 

"Let-a  me  sail-a  de  boat,"  he  demanded. 
"I  fix-a  them,  I  catch-a  them,  sure." 

This  was  a  stroke  at  Charley's  profes- 
sional pride,  for  pride  himself  he  did  upon 
his  boat-sailing  abilities;  but  he  yielded 
the  tiller  to  the  prisoner  and  took  his  place 
at  the  sheet.  Three  times  again  we  made 
the  circuit,  and  the  Greek  found  that  he 
could  get  no  more  speed  out  of  the  salmon 
boat  than  Charley  had. 

"Better  give  it  up,"  one  of  the  sailors 
advised  from  above. 


ii4  THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

The  Greek  scowled  ferociously  and  shook 
his  fist  in  his  customary  fashion.  In  the 
meanwhile  my  mind  had  not  been  idle,  and 
I  had  finally  evolved  an  idea. 

"Keep  going,  Charley,  one  time  more," 
I  said. 

And  as  we  laid  out  on  the  next  tack  to 
windward,  I  bent  a  piece  of  line  to  a  small 
grappling  hook  I  had  seen  lying  in  the  bail- 
hole.  The  end  of  the  line  I  made  fast  to 
the  ring-bolt  in  the  bow,  and  with  the  hook 
out  of  sight  I  waited  for  the  next  oppor- 
tunity to  use  it.  Once  more  they  made 
their  leeward  pull  down  the  port  side  of  the 
Lancashire  Queen,  and  more  once  we 
churned  down  after  them  before  the  wind. 
Nearer  and  nearer  we  drew,  and  I  was 
making  believe  to  reach  for  them  as  before. 
The  stern  of  the  skiff  was  not  six  feet  away, 
and  they  were  laughing  at  me  derisively 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    115 

as  they  ducked  under  the  ship's  stern.  At 
that  instant  I  suddenly  arose  and  threw 
the  grappling  iron.  It  caught  fairly  and 
squarely  on  the  rail  of  the  skiff,  which  was 
jerked  backward  out  of  safety  as  the  rope 
tautened  and  the  salmon  boat  ploughed  on. 
A  groan  went  up  from  the  row  of  sailors 
above,  which  quickly  changed  to  a  cheer 
as  one  of  the  Italians  whipped  out  a  long 
sheath-knife  and  cut  the  rope.  But  we 
had  drawn  them  out  of  safety,  and  Charley, 
from  his  place  in  the  stern-sheets,  reached 
over  and  clutched  the  stern  of  the  skiff. 
The  whole  thing  happened  in  a  second  of 
time,  for  the  first  Italian  was  cutting  the 
rope  and  Charley  was  clutching  the  skiff, 
when  the  second  Italian  dealt  him  a  rap 
over  the  head  with  an  oar.  Charley  released 
his  hold  and  collapsed,  stunned,  into  the 
bottom  of  the  salmon  boat,  and  the  Italians 


n6  THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

bent  to  their  oars  and  escaped  back  under 
the  ship's  stern. 

The  Greek  took  both  tiller  and  sheet 
and  continued  the  chase  around  the  Lan- 
cashire Queen,  while  I  attended  to  Charley, 
on  whose  head  a  nasty  lump  was  rapidly 
rising.  Our  sailor  audience  was  wild  with 

'•';  ^$ii-_l 

delight,  and  to  a  man  encouraged  the  flee- 
ing Italians.  Charley  sat  up,  with  one 
hand  on  his  head,  and  gazed  about  him 
sheepishly. 

"  It  will  never  do  to  let  them  escape  now," 
he  said,  at  the  same  time  drawing  his  re- 
volver. 

On  our  next  circuit,  he  threatened  the 
Italians  with  the  weapon;  but  they  rowed 
on  stolidly,  keeping  splendid  stroke  and 
utterly  disregarding  him. 

"If  you  don't  stop,  I'll  shoot,"  Charley 
said  menacingly. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    117 

But  this  had  no  effect,  nor  were  they  to 
be  frightened  into  surrendering  even  when 
he  fired  several  shots  dangerously  close  to 
them.  It  was  too  much  to  expect  him  to 
shoot  unarmed  men,  and  this  they  knew  as 
well  as  we  did;  so  they  continued  to  pull 
doggedly  round  and  round  the  ship. 

"We'll  run  them  down,  then!"  Charley 
exclaimed.  "We'll  wear  them  out  and  wind 
them!" 

So  the  chase  continued.  Twenty  times 
more  we  ran  them  around  the  Lancashire 
Queen,  and  at  last  we  could  see  that  even 
their  iron  muscles  were  giving  out.  They 
were  nearly  exhausted,  and  it  was  only  a 
matter  of  a  few  more  circuits,  when  the 
game  took  on  a  new  feature.  On  the  row 
to  windward  they  always  gained  on  us,  so 
that  they  were  half-way  down  the  ship's 
side  on  the  row  to  leeward  when  we  were 


n8    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN' 

passing  the  bow.  But  this  last  time,  as  we 
passed  the  bow,  we  saw  them  escaping  up 
the  ship's  gangway,  which  had  been  sud- 
denly lowered.  It  was  an  organized  move 
on  the  part  of  the  sailors,  evidently  coun- 
tenanced by  the  captain;  for  by  the  time 
we  arrived  where  the  gangway  had  been,  it 
was  being  hoisted  up,  and  the  skiff,  slung 
in  the  ship's  davits,  was  likewise  flying  aloft 
out  of  reach. 

The  parley  that  followed  with  the  captain 
was  short  and  snappy.  He  absolutely  for- 
bade us  to  board  the  Lancashire  Queen, 
and  as  absolutely  refused  to  give  up  the 
two  men.  By  this  time  Charley  was  as  en- 
raged as  the  Greek.  Not  only  had  he  been 
foiled  in  a  long  and  ridiculous  chase,  but 
he  had  been  knocked  senseless  into  the 
bottom  of  his  boat  by  the  men  who  had 
escaped  him. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"   119 

"Knock  off  my  head  with  little  apples," 
he  declared  emphatically,  striking  the  fist 
of  one  hand  into  the  palm  of  the  other, 
"if  those  two  men  ever  escape  me!  I'll 
stay  here  to  get  them  if  it  takes  the  rest  of 
my  natural  life,  and  if  I  don't  get  them, 
then  I  promise  you  I'll  live  unnaturally  long 
or  until  I  do  get  them,  or  my  name's  not 
Charley  Le  Grant!" 

And  then  began  the  siege  of  the  Lan- 
cashire Queen,  a  siege  memorable  in  the 
annals  of  both  fishermen  and  fish  patrol. 
When  the  Reindeer  came  along,  after  a 
fruitless  pursuit  of  the  shad  fleet,  Charley 
instructed  Neil  Partington  to  send  out  his 
own  salmon  boat,  with  blankets,  provisions, 
and  a  fisherman's  charcoal  store.  By  sun- 
set this  exchange  of  boats  was  made,  and 
we  said  good-by  to  our  Greek,  who  perforce 
had  to  go  into  Benicia  and  be  locked  up 


120   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

for  his  own  violation  of  the  law.  After  sup- 
per, Charley  and  I  kept  alternate  four-hour 
watches  till  daylight.  The  fishermen  made 
no  attempt  to  escape  that  night,  though 
the  ship  sent  out  a  boat  for  scouting  pur- 
poses to  find  if  the  coast  were  clear. 

By  the  next  day  we  saw  that  a  steady 
siege  was  in  order,  and  we  perfected  our 
plans  with  an  eye  to  our  own  comfort.  A 
dock,  known  as  the  Solano  Wharf,  which 
ran  out  from  the  Benicia  shore,  helped  us 
in  this.  It  happened  that  the  Lancashire 
Queen,  the  shore  at  Turner's  Shipyard,  and 
the  Solano  Wharf  were  the  corners  of  a 
big  equilateral  triangle.  From  ship  to  shore, 
the  side  of  the  triangle  along  which  the 
Italians  had  to  escape,  was  a  distance 
equal  to  that  from  the  Solano  Wharf  to  the 
shore,  the  side  of  the  triangle  along  which 
we  had  to  travel  to  get  to  the  shore  before 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN1'   121 

the  Italians.  But  as  we  could  sail  much 
faster  than  they  could  row,  we  could  per- 
mit them  to  travel  about  half  their  side  of 
the  triangle  before  we  darted  out  along  our 
side.  If  we  allowed  them  to  get  more  than 
half-way,  they  were  certain  to  beat  us  to 
shore;  while  if  we  started  before  they  were 
half-way,  they  were  equally  certain  to  beat 
us  back  to  the  ship. 

We  found  that  an  imaginary  line,  drawn 
from  the  end  of  the  wharf  to  a  windmill, 
farther  along  the  shore,  cut  precisely  in  half 
the  line  of  the  triangle  along  which  the 
Italians  must  escape  to  reach  the  land. 
This  line  made  it  easy  for  us  to  determine 
how  far  to  let  them  run  away  before  we 
bestirred  ourselves  in  pursuit.  Day  after 
day  we  would  watch  them  through  our 
glasses  as  they  rowed  leisurely  along  toward 
the  half-way  point;  and  as  they  drew  close 


122   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

into  line  with  the  windmill,  we  would  leap 
into  the  boat  and  get  up  sail.  At  sight  of 
our  preparation,  they  would  turn  and  row 
slowly  back  to  the  Lancashire  Queen,  secure 
in  the  knowledge  that  we  could  not  over- 
take them. 

To  guard  against  calms  —  when  our 
salmon  boat  would  be  useless  —  we  also 
had  in  readiness  a  light  rowing  skiff 
equipped  with  spoon-oars.  But  at  such 
times,  when  the  wind  failed  us,  we  were 
forced  to  row  out  from  the  wharf  as  soon  as 
they  rowed  from  the  ship.  In  the  night- 
time, on  the  other  hand,  we  were  compelled 
to  patrol  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  ship; 
which  we  did,  Charley  and  I  standing  four- 
hour  watches  turn  and  turn  about.  The 
Italians,  however,  preferred  the  daytime  in 
which  to  escape,  and  so  our  long  night 
vigils  were  without  result. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    123 

"What  makes  me  mad,'*  said  Charley, 
"is  our  being  kept  from  our  honest  beds 
while  those  rascally  lawbreakers  are  sleep- 
ing soundly  every  night.  But  much  good 
may  it  do  them,"  he  threatened.  "I'll  keep 
them  on  that  ship  till  the  captain  charges 
them  board,  as  sure  as  a  sturgeon's  not  a 
catfish!" 

It  was  a  tantalizing  problem  that  con- 
fronted us.  As  long  as  we  were  vigilant, 
they  could  not  escape;  and  as  long  as  they 
were  careful,  we  would  be  unable  to  catch 
them.  Charley  cudgelled  his  brains  con- 
tinually, but  for  once  his  imagination  failed 
him.  It  was  a  problem  apparently  without 
other  solution  than  that  of  patience.  It  was 
a  waiting  game,  and  whichever  waited  the 
longer  was  bound  to  win.  To  add  to  our 
irritation?  friends  of  the  Italians  established 
a  code  of  signals  with  them  from  the  shore^ 


124    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

so  that  we  never  dared  relax  the  siege  for 
a  moment.  And  besides  this,  there  were 
always  one  or  two  suspicious-looking  fisher- 
men hanging  around  the  Solano  Wharf 
and  keeping  watch  on  our  actions.  We 
could  do  nothing  but  "grin  and  bear  it," 
as  Charley  said,  while  it  took  up  all  our 
time  and  prevented  us  from  doing  other 
work. 

The  days  went  by,  and  there  was  no 
change  in  the  situation.  Not  that  no  at- 
tempts were  made  to  change  it.  One  night 
friends  from  the  shore  came  out  in  a  skiff 
and  attempted  to  confuse  us  while  the  two 
Italians  escaped.  That  they  did  not  succeed 
was  due  to  the  lack  of  a  little  oil  on  the 
ship's  davits.  For  we  were  drawn  back 
from  the  pursuit  of  the  strange  boat  by  the 
creaking  of  the  davits,  and  arrived  at  the 
Lancashire  Queen  just  as  the  Italians  were 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    125 

lowering  their  skiff.  Another  night,  fully 
half  a  dozen  skiffs  rowed  around  us  in  the 
darkness,  but  we  held  on  like  a  leech  to  the 
side  of  the  ship  and  frustrated  their  plan 
till  they  grew  angry  and  showered  us  with 
abuse.  Charley  laughed  to  himself  in  the 
bottom  of  the  boat. 

"It's  a  good  sign,  lad,"  he  said  to  me. 
"When  men  begin  to  abuse,  make  sure 
they're  losing  patience;  and  shortly  after 
they  lose  patience,  they  lose  their  heads. 
Mark  my  words,  if  we  only  hold  out,  they'll 
get  careless  some  fine  day,  and  then  we'll 
get  them." 

But  they  did  not  grow  careless,  and  Char- 
ley confessed  that  this  was  one  of  the 
times  when  all  signs  failed.  Their  patience 
seemed  equal  to  ours,  and  the  second  week 
of  the  siege  dragged  monotonously  along. 
Then  Charley's  lagging  imagination  quick' 


126    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

ened  sufficiently  to  suggest  a  ruse.  Peter 
Boyelen,  a  new  patrolman  and  one  unknown 
to  the  fisher-folk,  happened  to  arrive  in 
Benicia,  and  we  took  him  into  our  plan. 
We  were  as  secret  as  possible  about  it, 
but  in  some  unfathomable  way  the  friends 
ashore  got  word  to  the  beleaguered  Italians 
to  keep  their  eyes  open. 

On  the  night  we  were  to  put  our  ruse 
into  effect,  Charley  and  I  took  up  our  usual 
station  in  our  rowing  skiff  alongside  the 
Lancashire  Queen.  After  it  was  thoroughly 
dark,  Peter  Boyelen  came  out  in  a  crazy 
duck  boat,  the  kind  you  can  pick  up  and 
carry  away  under  one  arm.  When  we 
heard  him  coming  along,  paddling  noisily, 
we  slipped  away  a  short  distance  into  the 
darkness  and  rested  on  our  oars.  Opposite 
the  gangway,  having  jovially  hailed  the 
anchor-watch  of  the  Lancashire  Queen  and 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    127 

asked  the  direction  of  the  Scottish  Chiefs, 
another  wheat  ship,  he  awkwardly  capsized 
himself.  The  man  who  was  standing  the 
anchor-watch  ran  down  the  gangway  and 
hauled  him  out  of  the  water.  This  was 
what  he  wanted,  to  get  aboard  the  ship; 
and  the  next  thing  he  expected  was  to  be 
taken  on  deck  and  then  below  to  warm  up 
and  dry  out.  But  the  captain  inhospitably 
kept  him  perched  on  the  lowest  gangway 
step,  shivering  miserably  and  with  his  feet 
dangling  in  the  water,  till  we,  out  of  very 
pity,  rowed  in  from  the  darkness  and  took 
him  off.  The  jokes  and  gibes  of  the  awak- 
ened crew  sounded  anything  but  sweet  in 
our  ears,  and  even  the  two  Italians  climbed 
up  on  the  rail  and  laughed  down  at  us  long 
and  maliciously. 

"That's  all  right,"  Charley  said  in  a  low 
voice,  which    I    only    could    hear.       "I'm 


128    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN'1 

mighty  glad  it's  not  us  that's  laughing  first. 
We'll  save  our  laugh  to  the  end,  eh,  lad  ?" 

He  clapped  a  hand  on  my  shoulder  as 
he  finished,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  there 
was  more  determination  than  hope  in  his 
voice. 

It  would  have  been  possible  for  us  to 
secure  the  aid  of  United  States  marshals 
and  board  the  English  ship,  backed  by 
government  authority.  But  the  instruc- 
tions of  the  Fish  Commission  were  to  the 
effect  that  the  patrolmen  should  avoid  com- 
plications, and  this  one,  did  we  call  on  the 
higher  powers,  might  well  end  in  a  pretty 
international  tangle. 

The  second  week  of  the  siege  drew  to  its 
close,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  change  in 
the  situation.  On  the  morning  of  the  four- 
teenth day  the  change  came,  and  it  came  in 
a  guise  as  unexpected  and  startling  to  us 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN'1    129 

as  it  was  to  the  men  we  were  striving  to 
capture. 

Charley  and  I,  after  our  customary  night 
vigil  by  the  side  of  the  Lancashire  Queen, 
rowed  into  the  Solano  Wharf. 

"  Hello ! "  cried  Charley,  in  surprise. 
"In  the  name  of  reason  and  common  sense, 
what  is  that  ?  Of  all  unmannerly  craft  did 
you  ever  see  the  like  ?" 

Well  might  he  exclaim,  for  there,  tied  up 
to  the  dock,  lay  the  strangest-looking  launch 
I  had  ever  seen.  Not  that  it  could  be  called 
a  launch,  either,  but  it  seemed  to  resemble 
a  launch  more  than  any  other  kind  of  boat. 
It  was  seventy  feet  long,  but  so  narrow  was 
it,  and  so  bare  of  superstructure,  that  it 
appeared  much  smaller  than  it  really  was. 
It  was  built  wholly  of  steel,  and  was  painted 
black.  Three  smokestacks,  a  good  dis- 
tance apart  and  raking  well  aft,  arose  in 
i 


ijo   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

single  file  amidships;  while  the  bow,  long 
and  lean  and  sharp  as  a  knife,  plainly  ad- 
vertised that  the  boat  was  made  for  speed. 
Passing  under  the  stern,  we  read  Streak, 
painted  in  small  white  letters. 

Charley  and  I  were  consumed  with  curi- 
osity. In  a  few  minutes  we  were  on  board 
and  talking  with  an  engineer  who  was 
watching  the  sunrise  from  the  deck.  He 
was  quite  willing  to  satisfy  our  curiosity, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  we  learned  that  the 
Streak  had  come  in  after  dark  from  San 
Francisco;  that  this  was  what  might  be 
called  the  trial  trip;  and  that  she  was  the 
property  of  Silas  Tate,  a  young  mining 
millionaire  of  California,  whose  fad  was 
high-speed  yachts.  There  was  some  talk 
about  turbine  engines,  direct  application  of 
steam,  and  the  absence  of  pistons,  rods,  and 
cranks, — all  of  which  was  beyond  me,  for 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"    131 

I  was  familiar  only  with  sailing  craft;  but  1 
did  understand  the  last  words  of  the  engineer. 

"Four  thousand  horse-power  and  forty- 
five  miles  an  hour,  though  you  wouldn't 
think  it,"  he  concluded  proudly. 

"Say  it  again,  man!  Say  it  again!" 
Charley  exclaimed  in  an  excited  voice. 

"Four  thousand  horse-power  and  forty- 
five  miles  an  hour,"  the  engineer  repeated, 
grinning  good-naturedly. 

"Where's  the  owner?"  was  Charley's 
next  question.  "Is  there  any  way  I  can 
speak  to  him  ?" 

The  engineer  shook  his  head.  "No,  I'm 
afraid  not.  He's  asleep,  you  see." 

At  that  moment  a  young  man  in  blue 
uniform  came  on  deck  farther  aft  and  stood 
regarding  the  sunrise. 

"There  he  is,  that's  him,  that's  Mr. 
Tate,"  said  the  engineer. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

Charley  walked  aft  and  spoke  to  him, 
and  while  he  talked  earnestly  the  young 
man  listened  with  an  amused  expression  on 
his  face.  He  must  have  inquired  about 
the  depth  of  water  close  in  to  the  shore  at 
Turner's  Shipyard,  for  I  could  see  Charley 
making  gestures  and  explaining.  A  few 
minutes  later  he  came  back  in  high  glee. 

"Come  on,  lad/'  he  said.  "On  to  the 
dock  with  you.  We've  got  them ! " 

It  was  our  good  fortune  to  leave  the 
Streak  when  we  did,  for  a  little  later  one  of 
the  spy  fishermen  appeared.  Charley  and 
I  took  up  our  accustomed  places,  on  the 
stringer-piece,  a  little  ahead  of  the  Streak 
and  over  our  own  boat,  where  we  could 
comfortably  watch  the  Lancashire  Queen. 
Nothing  occurred  till  about  nine  o'clock, 
when  we  saw  the  two  Italians  leave  the  ship 
and  pull  along  their  side  of  the  triangle 


THE  "  LANCASHIRE  QUEEN  "    133 

toward  the  shore.  Charley  looked  as  un- 
concerned as  could  be,  but  before  they  had 
covered  a  quarter  of  the  distance,  he  whis- 
pered to  me: 

"Forty-five  miles  an  hour  .  .  .  nothing 
can  save  them  ....  they  are  ours!" 

Slowly  the  two  men  rowed  along  till  they 
were  nearly  in  line  with  the  windmill.  This 
was  the  point  where  we  always  jumped 
into  our  salmon  boat  and  got  up  the  sail, 
and  the  two  men,  evidently  expecting  it, 
seemed  surprised  when  we  gave  no  sign. 

When  they  were  directly  in  line  with  the 
windmill,  as  near  to  the  shore  as  to  the 
ship,  and  nearer  the  shore  than  we  had  ever 
allowed  them  before,  they  grew  suspicious. 
We  followed  them  through  the  glasses,  and 
saw  them  standing  up  in  the  skiff  and  trying 
to  find  out  what  we  were  doing.  The  spy 
fisherman,  sitting  beside  us  on  the  stringer- 


134    THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

piece,  was  likewise  puzzled.  He  could  not 
understand  our  inactivity.  The  men  in  the 
skiff  rowed  nearer  the  shore,  but  stood  up 
again  and  scanned  it,  as  if  they  thought  we 
might  be  in  hiding  there.  Bat  a  man  came 
out  on  the  beach  and  waved  a  handkerchief 
to  indicate  that  the  coast  was  clear.  That 
settled  them.  They  bent  to  the  oars  to 
make  a  dash  for  it.  Still  Charley  waited. 
Not  until  they  had  covered  three-quarters 
of  the  distance  from  the  Lancashire  Queen, 
which  left  them  hardly  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  to  gain  the  shore,  did  Charley 
slap  me  on  the  shoulder  and  cry: 
"They're  ours!  They're  ours!" 
We  ran  the  few  steps  to  the  side  of  the 
Streak  and  jumped  aboard.  Stern  and  bow 
lines  were  cast  off  in  a  jiffy.  The  Streak 
shot  ahead  and  away  from  the  wharf.  The 
spy  fisherman  we  had  left  behind  on  the 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN"     135 

stringer-piece  pulled  out  a  revolver  and 
fired  five  shots  into  the  air  in  rapid  succes- 
sion. The  men  in  the  skifF  gave  instant 
heed  to  the  warning,  for  we  could  see  them 
pulling  away  like  mad. 

But  if  they  pulled  like  mad,  I  wonder 
how  our  progress  can  be  described  ?  We 
fairly  flew.  So  frightful  was  the  speed 
with  which  we  displaced  the  water,  that  a 
wave  rose  up  on  either  side  our  bow  and 
foamed  aft  in  a  series  of  three  stiff,  up-stand- 
ing waves,  while  astern  a  great  crested 
billow  pursued  us  hungrily,  as  though  at 
each  moment  it  would  fall  aboard  and 
destroy  us.  The  Streak  was  pulsing  and 
vibrating  and  roaring  like  a  thing  alive. 
The  wind  of  our  progress  was  like  a.  gale 
-  -  a  forty-five-mile  gale.  We  could  not  face 
it  and  draw  breath  without  choking  and 
strangling.  It  blew  the  smoke  straight  back 


ij6   THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN" 

from  the  mouths  of  the  smoke-stacks  at  a 
direct  right  angle  to  the  perpendicular.  In 
fact,  we  were  travelling  as  fast  as  an  express 
train.  "We  just  streaked  it,"  was  the  way 
Charley  told  it  afterward,  and  I  think  his 
description  comes  nearer  than  any  I  can 
give. 

As  for  the  Italians  in  the  skiff — hardly 
had  we  started,  it  seemed  to  me,  when  we 
were  on  top  of  them.  Naturally,  we  had 
to  slow  down  long  before  we  got  to  them; 
but  even  then  we  shot  past  like  a  whirlwind 
and  were  compelled  to  circle  back  between 
them  and  the  shore.  They  had  rowed 
steadily,  rising  from  the  thwarts  at  every 
stroke,  up  to  the  moment  we  passed  them, 
when  they  recognized  Charley  and  me. 
That  took  the  last  bit  of  fight  out  of  them. 
They  hauled  in  their  oars  and  sullenly  sub- 
mitted to  arrest. 


THE  "LANCASHIRE  QUEEN "    137 

"Well,  Charley,"  Neil  Partington  said, 
as  we  discussed  it  on  the  wharf  afterward, 
"I  fail  to  see  where  your  boasted  imagina- 
tion came  into  play  this  time." 

But  Charley  was  true  to  his  hobby.  **  Im- 
agination?" he  demanded,  pointing  to  the 
Streak.  "Look  at  that!  Just  look  at  it! 
If  the  invention  of  that  isn't  imagination, 
I  should  like  to  know  what  is. 

"Of  course,"  he  added,  "it's  the  other 
fellow's  imagination,  but  it  did  the  work 
all  the  same." 


CHARLEY'S  COUP 


CHARLEY'S   COUP 

PERHAPS  our  most  laughable  exploit  on 
the  fish  patrol,  and  at  the  same  time 
our  most  dangerous  one,  was  when 
we  rounded  in,  at  a  single  haul,  an  even  score 
of  wrathful  fishermen.  Charley  caiied  it  a 
"coop,"  having  heard  Neil  Partington  use 
the  term;  but  I  think  he  misunderstood  the 
word,  and  thought  it  meant  "  coop, "  to  catch, 
to  trap.  The  fishermen,  however,  coup  or 
coop,  must  have  called  it  a  Waterloo,  for  it 
was  the  severest  stroke  ever  dealt  them  by 
the  fish  patrol,  while  they  had  invited  it  by 
open  and  impudent  defiance  of  the  law. 

During  what  is  called  the  "open  season" 
the  fishermen  might  catch  as  many  salmon 


I42  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

as  their  luck  allowed  and  their  boats  could 
hold.  But  there  was  one  important  restrie* 
tion.  From  sun-down  Saturday  night  to 
sun-up  Monday  morning,  they  were  not  per- 
mitted to  set  a  net.  This  was  a  wise  provi- 
sion on  the  part  of  the  Fish  Commission,  for 
it  was  necessary  to  give  the  spawning  salmon 
some  opportunity  to  ascend  the  river  and 
lay  their  eggs.  And  this  law,  with  only  an 
occasional  violation,  had  been  obediently 
observed  by  the  Greek  fishermen  who  caught 
salmon  for  the  canneries  and  the  market. 

One  Sunday  morning,  Charley  received  a 
telephone  call  from  a  friend  in  Collinsville, 
who  told  him  that  the  full  force  of  fisher- 
men was  out  with  its  nets.  Charley  and  I 
jumped  into  our  salmon  boat  and  started 
for  the  scene  of  the  trouble.  With  a  light 
favoring  wind  at  our  back  we  went  through 
the  Carquinez  Straits,  crossed  Suisun  Bay, 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  143 

passed  the  Ship  Island  Light,  and  came  upon 
the  whole  fleet  at  work. 

But  first  let  me  describe  the  method  by 
which  they  worked.  The  net  used  is  what  is 
known  as  a  gill-net.  It  has  a  simple  dia- 
mond-shaped mesh  which  measures  at  least 
seven  and  one-half  inches  between  the  knots. 
From  five  to  seven  and  even  eight  hundred 
feet  in  length,  these  nets  are  only  a  few  feet 
wide.  They  are  not  stationary,  but  float 
with  the  current,  the  upper  edge  supported 
on  the  surface  by  floats,  the  lower  edge 
sunk  by  means  of  leaden  weights. 

This  arrangement  keeps  the  net  upright  in 
the  current  and  effectually  prevents  all  but 
the  smaller  fish  from  ascending  the  river. 
The  salmon,  swimming  near  the  surface,  as 
is  their  custom,  run  their  heads  through 
these  meshes,  and  are  prevented  from  going 
on  through  by  their  larger  girth  of  body,  and 


144  CHARLEYS   COUP 

from  going  back  because  of  their  gills,  which 
catch  in  the  mesh.  It  requires  two  fishermen 
to  set  such  a  net,  —  one  to  row  the  boat,  while 
the  other,  standing  in  the  stern,  carefully  pays 
out  the  net.  When  it  is  all  out,  stretching 
directly  across  the  stream,  the  men  make 
their  boat  fast  to  one  end  of  the  net  and  drift 
along  with  it. 

As  we  came  upon  the  fleet  of  law-breaking 
fishermen,  each  boat  two  or  three  hundred 
y^rds  from  its  neighbors,  and  boats  and  nets 
dotting  the  river  as  far  as  we  could  see, 
Charley  said: 

"I've  only  one  regret,  lad,  and  that  is  that 
I  haven't  a  thousand  arms  so  as  to  be  able 
to  catch  them  all.  As  it  is,  we'll  only  be  able 
to  catch  one  boat,  for  while  we  are  tackling 
fchat  one  it  will  be  up  nets  and  away  with  the 


rest." 


As  we  drew  closer,  we  observed  none  of 


CHARLEY'S  COUP  145 

the  usual  flurry  and  excitement  which  our 
appearance  invariably  produced.  Instead, 
each  boat  lay  quietly  by  its  net,  while  the 
fishermen  favored  us  with  not  the  slightest 
attention. 

"It's  curious,"  Charley  muttered.  "Can 
it  be  they  don't  recognize  us?" 

I  said  that  it  was  impossible,  and  Charley 
agreed;  yet  there  was  a  whole  fleet,  manned 
by  men  who  knew  us  only  too  well,  and  who 
took  no  more  notice  of  us  than  if  we  were 
a  hay  scow  or  a  pleasure  yacht. 

This  did  not  continue  to  be  the  case,  how- 
ever, for  as  we  bore  down  upon  the  nearest 
net,  the  men  to  whom  it  belonged  detached 
their  boat  and  rowed  slowly  toward  the  shore. 
The  rest  of  the  boats  showed  no  sign  of 
uneasiness. 

"That's  funny,"  was  Charley's  remark. 
"  But  we  can  confiscate  the  net,  at  any  rate." 

K 


146  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

We  lowered  sail,  picked  up  one  end  of  the 
net,  and  began  to  heave  it  into  the  boat.  But 
at  the  first  heave  we  heard  a  bullet  zip-zipping 
past  us  on  the  water,  followed  by  the  faint 
report  of  a  rifle.  The  men  who  had  rowed 
ashore  were  shooting  at  us.  At  the  next 
heave  a  second  bullet  went  zipping  past, 
perilously  near.  Charley  took  a  turn  around 
a  pin  and  sat  down.  There  were  no  more 
shots.  But  as  soon  as  he  began  to  heave  in, 
the  shooting  recommenced. 

"That  settles  it,"  he  said,  flinging  the  end 
of  the  net  overboard.  "You  fellows  want  it 
worse  than  we  do,  and  you  can  have  it." 

We  rowed  over  toward  the  next  net,  for 
Charley  was  intent  on  finding  out  whether  or 
not  we  were  face  to  face  with  an  organized 
defiance.  As  we  approached,  the  two  fisher- 
men proceeded  to  cast  off  from  their  net  and 
row  ashore,  while  the  first  two  rowed  back 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  147 

and  made  fast  to  the  net  we  had  abandoned. 
And  at  the  second  net  we  were  greeted  by 
rifle  shots  till  we  desisted  and  went  on  to  the 
third,  where  the  manoeuvre  was  again 
repeated. 

Then  we  gave  it  up,  completely  routed,  and 
hoisted  sail  and  started  on  the  long  wind- 
ward beat  back  to  Benicia.  A  number  of 
Sundays  went  by,  on  each  of  which  the  law 
was  persistently  violated.  Yet,  short  of  an 
armed  force  of  soldiers,  we  could  do  nothing. 
The  fishermen  had  hit  upon  a  new  idea  and 
were  using  it  for  all  it  was  worth,  while  there 
seemed  no  way  by  which  we  could  get  the 
better  of  them. 

About  this  time  Neil  Partington  happened 
along  from  the  Lower  Bay,  where  he  had  been 
for  a  number  of  weeks.  With  him  was 
Nicholas,  the  Greek  boy  who  had  helped 
us  in  our  raid  on  the  oyster  pirates,  and  the 


148  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

pair  of  them  took  a  hand.  We  made  our 
arrangements  carefully.  It  was  planned  that 
while  Charley  and  I  tackled  the  nets,  they 
were  to  be  hidden  ashore  so  as  to  ambush  the 
fishermen  who  landed  to  shoot  at  us. 

It  was  a  pretty  plan.  Even  Charley  said 
it  was.  But  we  reckoned  not  half  so  well  as 
the  Greeks.  They  forestalled  us  by  ambush- 
ing Neil  and  Nicholas  and  taking  them 
prisoners,  while,  as  of  old,  bullets  whistled 
about  our  ears  when  Charley  and  I  attempted 
to  take  possession  of  the  nets.  When  we 
were  again  beaten  off,  Neil  Partington  and 
Nicholas  were  released.  They  were  rather 
shamefaced  when  they  put  in  an  appearance, 
and  Charley  chaffed  them  unmercifully. 
But  Neil  chaffed  back,  demanding  to  know 
why  Charley's  imagination  had  not  long 
since  overcome  the  difficulty. 

"  Just  you  wait ;  the  idea'll  come  all  right,** 
Charley  promised. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  149 

"Most  probably,"  Neil  agreed.  "But 
I'm  afraid  the  salmon  will  be  exterminated 
first,  and  then  there  will  be  no  need  for  it 
when  it  does  come." 

Neil  Partington,  highly  disgusted  with  his 
adventure,  departed  for  the  Lower  Bay, 
taking  Nicholas  with  him,  and  Charley  and  I 
were  left  to  our  own  resources.  This  meant 
that  the  Sunday  fishing  would  be  left  to  itself, 
too,  until  such  time  as  Charley's  idea  hap- 
pened along.  I  puzzled  my  head  a  good 
deal  to  find  out  some  way  of  checkmating  the 
Greeks,  as  also  did  Charley,  and  we  broached 
a  thousand  expedients  which  on  discussion 
proved  worthless. 

The  fishermen,  on  the  other  hand,  were 
in  high  feather,  and  their  boasts  went  up  and 
down  the  river  to  add  to  our  discomfiture. 
Among  all  classes  of  them  we  became  aware 
of  a  growing  insubordination.  We  were 


150  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

beaten,  and  they  were  losing  respect  for  us. 
With  the  loss  of  respect,  contempt  began  to 
arise.  Charley  began  to  be  spoken  of  as  the 
"olda  woman,"  and  I  received  my  rating  as 
the  "pee-wee  kid."  The  situation  was  fast 
becoming  unbearable,  and  we  knew  that  we 
should  have  to  deliver  a  stunning  stroke  at 
the  Greeks  in  order  to  regain  the  old-time 
respect  in  which  we  had  stood. 

Then  one  morning  the  idea  came.  We 
were  down  on  Steamboat  Wharf,  where  the 
river  steamers  made  their  landings,  and  where 
we  found  a  group  of  amused  long-shore- 
men and  loafers  listening  to  the  hard-luck 
tale  of  a  sleepy-eyed  young  fellow  in  long 
sea-boots.  He  was  a  sort  of  amateur  fish- 
erman, he  said,  fishing  for  the  local  market 
of  Berkeley.  Now  Berkeley  was  on  the 
Lower  Bay,  thirty  miles  away.  On  the 
previous  night,  he  said,  he  had  set  his  net 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  151 

and  dozed  off  to  sleep  in  the  bottom  of  the 
boat. 

The  next  he  knew  it  was  morning,  and  he 
opened  his  eyes  to  find  his  boat  rubbing  softly 
against  the  piles  of  Steamboat  Wharf  at 
Benicia.  Also  he  saw  the  river  steamer 
Apacbe  lying  ahead  of  him,  and  a  couple  of 
deck-hands  disentangling  the  shreds  of  his  net 
from  the  paddle-wheel.  In  short,  after  he 
had  gone  to  sleep,  his  fisherman's  riding 
light  had  gone  out,  and  the  Apacbe  had  run 
over  his  net.  Though  torn  pretty  well  to 
pieces,  the  net  in  some  way  still  remained 
foul,  and  he  had  had  a  thirty-mile  tow  out 
of  his  course. 

Charley  nudged  me  with  his  elbow.  J 
grasped  his  thought  on  the  instant,  but 
objected : 

"We  can't  charter  a  steamboat/' 

"Don't    intend    to,"    he    rejoined.     "But 


152  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

let's  run  over  to  Turner's  Shipyard.  I've 
something  in  my  mind  there  that  may  be 
of  use  to  us." 

And  over  we  went  to  the  shipyard,  where 
Charley  led  the  way  to  the  Mary  Rebecca, 
lying  hauled  out  on  the  ways,  where  she  was 
being  cleaned  and  overhauled.  She  was  a 
scow-schooner  we  both  knew  well,  carrying 
a  cargo  of  one  hundred  and  forty  tons  and 
a  spread  of  canvas  greater  than  any  other 
schooner  on  the  bay. 

"How  d'ye  do,  Ole,"  Charley  greeted  a 
big  blue-shirted  Swede  who  was  greasing  the 
jaws  of  the  main  gaff  with  a  piece  of  pork 
rind. 

Ole  grunted,  puffed  away  at  his  pipe,  and 
went  on  greasing.  The  captain  of  a  bay 
schooner  is  supposed  to  work  with  his  hands 
just  as  well  as  the  men. 

Ole  Ericsen  verified  Charley's  conjecture 


CHARLEY'S    COUP  153 

that  the  Mary  Rebecca,  as  soon  as  launched, 
would  run  up  the  San  Joaquin  River  nearly 
to  Stockton  for  a  load  of  wheat.  Then 
Charley  made  his  proposition,  and  Ole 
Ericsen  shook  his  head. 

"Just  a  hook,  one  good-sized  hook," 
Charley  pleaded. 

"No,  Ay  tank  not,"  said  Ole  Ericsen. 
"Der  Mary  Rebecca  yust  hang  up  on  efery 
mud-bank  with  that  hook.  Ay  don't  want 
to  lose  der  Mary  Rebecca.  She's  all  Ay  got." 

"No,  no,"  Charley  hurried  to  explain. 
"We  can  put  the  end  of  the  hook  through 
the  bottom  from  the  outside,  and  fasten  it  on 
the  inside  with  a  nut.  After  it's  done  its 
work,  why,  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  go  down 
into  the  hold,  unscrew  the  nut,  and  out  drops 
the  hook.  Then  drive  a  wooden  peg  into  the 
hole,  and  the  Mary  Rebecca  will  be  all  right 
again." 


154  CHARLEY'S    COUP 

Olc  Ericsen  was  obstinate  for  a  long  time; 
but  in  the  end,  after  we  had  had  dinner  with 
him,  he  was  brought  round  to  consent. 

"Ay  do  it,  by  Yupiter!"  he  said,  striking 
one  huge  fist  into  the  palm  of  the  other  hand. 
"  But  yust  hurry  you  up  with  der  hook.  Der 
Mary  Rebecca  slides  into  der  water  to-night." 
It  was  Saturday,  and  Charley  had  need  to 
hurry.  We  headed  for  the  shipyard  black- 
smith shop,  where,  under  Charley's  direc- 
tions, a  most  generously  curved  hook  of 
heavy  steel  was  made.  Back  we  hastened 
to  the  Mary  Rebecca.  Aft  of  the  great  centre- 
board case,  through  what  was  properly  her 
keel,  a  hole  was  bored.  The  end  of  the  hook 
was  inserted  from  the  outside,  and  Charley, 
on  the  inside,  screwed  the  nut  on  tightly. 
As  it  stood  complete,  the  hook  projected  over 
a  foot  beneath  the  bottom  of  the  schooner, 
its  curve  was  something  like  the  curve  of  a 
sickle,  but  deeper. 


CHARLEY'S  COUP  155 

In  the  late  afternoon  the  Mary  Rebecca 
was  launched,  and  preparations  were  finished 
for  the  start  up-river  next  morning.  Charley 
and  Ole  intently  studied  the  evening  sky  for 
signs  of  wind,  for  without  a  good  breeze 
our  project  was  doomed  to  failure.  They 
agreed  that  there  were  all  the  signs  of  a  stiff 
westerly  wind  —  not  the  ordinary  afternoon 
sea-breeze,  but  a  half-gale,  which  even  then 
was  springing  up. 

Next  morning  found  their  predictions  veri- 
fied. The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  but 
something  more  than  a  half-gale  was  shriek- 
ing up  the  Carquinez  Straits,  and  the  Mary 
Rebecca  got  under  way  with  two  reefs  in  her 
mainsail  and  one  in  her  foresail.  We  found 
it  quite  rough  in  the  Straits  and  in  Suisun 
Bay;  but  as  the  water  grew  more  land- 
locked it  became  calm,  though  without  let-up 
in  the  wind. 


156  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

Off  Ship  Island  Light  the  reefs  were 
shaken  out,  and  at  Charley's  suggestion  a 
big  fisherman's  staysail  was  made  all  ready 
for  hoisting,  and  the  maintopsail,  bunched 
into  a  cap  at  the  masthead,  was  overhauled 
so  that  it  could  be  set  on  an  instant's  notice. 

We  were  tearing  along,  wing-and-wing, 
before  the  wind,  foresail  to  starboard  and 
mainsail  to  port,  as  we  came  upon  the  salmon 
fleet.  There  they  were,  boats  and  nets,  as 
on  that  first  Sunday  when  they  had  bested  us, 
strung  out  evenly  over  the  river  as  far  as  we 
could  see.  A  narrow  space  on  the  right-hand 
side  of  the  channel  was  left  clear  for  steam- 
boats, but  the  rest  of  the  river  was  covered 
with  the  wide-stretching  nets.  The  narrow 
space  was  our  logical  course,  but  Charley,  at 
the  wheel,  steered  the  Mary  Rebecca  straight 
for  the  nets. 

This  did  not  cause  any  alarm  among  the 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  157 

fishermen,  because  up-river  sailing  craft  are 
always  provided  with  "shoes"  on  the  ends  of 
their  keels,  which  permit  them  to  slip  over 
the  nets  without  fouling  them. 

"  Now  she  takes  it ! "  Charley  cried,  as  we 
dashed  across  the  middle  of  a  line  of  floats 
which  marked  a  net.  At  one  end  of  this 
line  was  a  small  barrel  buoy,  at  the  other  the 
two  fishermen  in  their  boat.  Buoy  and  boat 
at  once  began  to  draw  together,  and  the  fish- 
ermen to  cry  out,  as  they  were  jerked  after 
us.  A  couple  of  minutes  later  we  hooked  a 
second  net,  and  then  a  third,  and  in  this 
fashion  we  tore  straight  up  through  the 
centre  of  the  fleet. 

The  consternation  we  spread  among  the 
fishermen  was  tremendous.  As  fast  as  we 
hooked  a  net  the  two  ends  of  it,  buoy  and 
boat,  came  together  as  they  dragged  out 
astern ;  and  so  many  buoys  and  boats,  coming 


158  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

together  at  such  breakneck  speed,  kept  the 
fishermen  on  the  jump  to  avoid  smashing 
into  one  another.  Also,  they  shouted  at  us 
like  mad  to  heave  to  into  the  wind,  for  they 
took  it  as  some  drunken  prank  on  the  part 
of  scow-sailors,  little  dreaming  that  we  were 
the  fish  patrol. 

The  drag  of  a  single  net  is  very  heavy,  and 
Charley  and  Ole  Ericsen  decided  that  even 
in  such  a  wind  ten  nets  were  all  the  Mary 
Rebecca  could  take  along  with  her.  So  when 
we  had  hooked  ten  nets,  with  ten  boats  con- 
taining twenty  men  streaming  along  behind 
us,  we  veered  to  the  left  out  of  the  fleet  and 
headed  toward  Collinsville. 

We  were  all  jubilant.  Charley  was  han- 
dling the  wheel  as  though  he  were  steering  the 
winning  yacht  home  in  a  race.  The  two 
sailors  who  made  up  the  crew  of  the  Mary 
Rebecca,  were  grinning  and  joking.  Ole 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  159 

Ericsen  was  rubbing  his  huge  hands  in  child- 
like glee. 

"Ay  tank  you  fish  patrol  fallers  never 
ban  so  lucky  as  when  you  sail  with  Ole 
Ericsen/'  he  was  saying,  when  a  rifle  cracked 
sharply  astern,  and  a  bullet  gouged  along 
the  newly  painted  cabin,  glanced  on  a  nail, 
and  sang  shrilly  onward  into  space. 

This  was  too  much  for  Ole  Ericsen.  At 
sight  of  his  beloved  paintwork  thus  defaced, 
he  jumped  up  and  shook  his  fist  at  the  fisher- 
men; but  a  second  bullet  smashed  into  the 
cabin  not  six  inches  from  his  head,  and  he 
dropped  down  to  the  deck  under  cover  of 
the  rail. 

All  the  fishermen  had  rifles,  and  they  now 
opened  a  general  fusillade.  We  were  all 
driven  to  cover  —  even  Charley,  who  was 
compelled  to  desert  the  wheel.  Had  it  noi 
been  for  the  heavy  drag  of  the  nets,  we  would 


160  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

inevitably  have  broached  to  at  the  mercy  of 
the  enraged  fishermen.  But  the  nets,  fastened 
to  the  bottom  of  the  Mary  Rebecca  well  aft, 
held  her  stern  into  the  wind,  and  she  con- 
tinued to  plough  on,  though  somewhat 
erratically. 

Charley,  lying  on  the  deck,  could  just 
manage  to  reach  the  lower  spokes  of  the  wheel ; 
but  while  he  could  steer  after  a  fashion,  it 
was  very  awkward.  Ole  Ericsen  bethought 
himself  of  a  large  piece  of  sheet  steel  in  the 
empty  hold.  It  was  in  fact  a  plate  from  the 
side  of  the  New  'Jersey,  a  steamer  which  had 
recently  been  wrecked  outside  the  Golden 
Gate,  and  in  the  salving  of  which  the  Mary 
Rebecca  had  taken  part. 

Crawling  carefully  along  the  deck,  the 
two  sailors,  Ole,  and  myself  got  the  heavy 
plate  on  deck  and  aft,  where  we  reared  it  as  a 
shield  between  the  wheel  and  the  fishermen. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  161 

The  bullets  whanged  and  banged  against  it 
till  it  rang  like  a  bull's-eye,  but  Charley 
grinned  in  its  shelter,  and  coolly  went  on 
steering. 

So  we  raced  along,  behind  us  a  howling, 
screaming  bedlam  of  wrathful  Greeks,  Col- 
linsville  ahead,  and  bullets  spat-spatting  all 
around  us. 

"Ole,"  Charley  said  in  a  faint  voice,  "I 
don't  know  what  we're  going  to  do." 

Ole  Ericsen,  lying  on  his  back  close  to  the 
rail  and  grinning  upward  at  the  sky,  turned 
over  on  his  side  and  looked  at  him.  "Ay 
tank  we  go  into  Collinsville  yust  der  same," 
he  said. 

"But  we  can't  stop,"  Charley  groaned. 
"I  never  thought  of  it,  but  we  can't  stop." 

A  look  of  consternation  slowly  overspread 
Ole  Ericsen's  broad  face.  It  was  only  too 
true.  We  had  a  hornet's  nest  on  our  hands, 


162  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

and  to  stop  at  Collinsville  would  be  to  have 
it  about  our  ears. 

"  Every  man  Jack  of  them  has  a  gun,"  one 
of  the  sailors  remarked  cheerfully. 

"Yes,  and  a  knife,  too,"  the  other  sailor 
added. 

It  was  Ole  Ericsen's  turn  to  groan.  "What 
for  a  Svaidish  faller  like  me  monkey  with  none 
of  my  biziness,  I  don't  know,"  he  soliloquized. 

A  bullet  glanced  on  the  stern  and  sang  off 
to  starboard  like  a  spiteful  bee.  "There's 
nothing  to  do  but  plump  the  Mary  Rebecca 
ashore  and  run  for  it,"  was  the  verdict  of  the 
fl.rst  cheerful  sailor. 

"And  leaf  der  Mary  Rebecca?"  Ole  de- 
manded, with  unspeakable  horror  in  his 
voice. 

"Not  unless  you  want  to,"  was  the  response. 
"But  I  don't  want  to  be  within  a  thousand 
miles  of  her  when  those  fellers  come  aboard" 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  163 

—  indicating  the  bedlam  of  excited  Greeks 
towing  behind. 

We  were  right  in  at  Collinsville  then,  and 
went  foaming  by  within  biscuit-toss  of  the 
wharf. 

"  I  only  hope  the  wind  holds  out,"  Charley 
said,  stealing  a  glance  at  our  prisoners. 

"What  of  der  wind?"  Ole  demanded 
disconsolately.  "  Der  river  will  not  hold  out, 
and  then  .  .  .  and  then  .  .  . " 

"It's  head  for  tall  timber,  and  the  Greeks 
take  the  hindermost,"  adjudged  the  cheerful 
sailor,  while  Ole  was  stuttering  over  what 
would  happen  when  we  came  to  the  end  of 
the  river. 

We  had  now  reached  a  dividing  of  the  ways. 
To  the  left  was  the  mouth  of  the  Sacramento 
River,  to  the  right  the  mouth  of  the  San  Joa- 
quin.  The  cheerful  sailor  crept  forward 
and  jibed  over  the  foresail  as  Charley  put 


I64  CHARLEYS   COUP 

the  helm  to  starboard  and  we  swerved  to  the 
right  into  the  San  Joaquin.  The  wind., 
from  which  we  had  been  running  away  on 
an  even  keel,  now  caught  us  on  our  beam, 
and  the  Mary  Rebecca  was  pressed  down  on 
her  port  side  as  if  she  were  about  to  capsize. 

Still  we  dashed  on,  and  still  the  fishermen 
dashed  on  behind.  The  value  of  their  nets 
was  greater  than  the  fines  they  would  have 
to  pay  for  violating  the  fish  laws;  so  to  cast 
off  from  their  nets  and  escape,  which  they 
could  easily  do,  would  profit  them  nothing. 
Further,  they  remained  by  their  nets  instinc- 
tively, as  a  sailor  remains  by  his  ship.  And 
still  further,  the  desire  for  vengeance  was 
roused,  and  we  could  depend  upon  it  that 
they  would  follow  us  to  the  ends  of  the  earth, 
if  we  undertook  to  tow  them  that  far. 

The  rifle-firing  had  ceased,  and  we  looked 
astern  to  see  what  our  prisoners  were  doing. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  165 

The  boats  were  strung  along  at  unequal  dis- 
tances apart,  and  we  saw  the  four  nearest 
ones  bunching  together.  This  was  done  by 
the  boat  ahead  trailing  a  small  rope  astern 
to  the  one  behind.  When  this  was  caught, 
they  would  cast  off  from  their  net  and  heave 
in  on  the  line  till  they  were  brought  up  to  the 
boat  in  front.  So  great  was  the  speed  at 
which  we  were  travelling,  however,  that  this 
was  very  slow  work.  Sometimes  the  men 
would  strain  to  their  utmost  and  fail  to  get  in 
an  inch  of  the  rope;  at  other  times  they 
came  ahead  more  rapidly. 

When  the  four  boats  were  near  enough 
together  for  a  man  to  pass  from  one  to  another, 
one  Greek  from  each  of  three  got  into  the 
nearest  boat  to  us,  taking  his  rifle  with  him. 
This  made  five  in  the  foremost  boat^  and  it 
was  plain  that  their  intention  was  to  board 
us.  This  they  undertook  to  do,  by  main 


166  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

strength  and  sweat,  running  hand  over  hand 
the  float-line  of  a  net.  And  though  it  was 
slow,  and  they  stopped  frequently  to  rest, 
they  gradually  drew  nearer. 

Charley  smiled  at  their  efforts,  and  said, 
"Give  her  the  topsail,  Ole." 

The  cap  at  the  mainmast  head  was  broken 
out,  and  sheet  and  downhaul  pulled  flat, 
amid  a  scattering  rifle  fire  from  the  boats; 
and  the  Mary  Rebecca  lay  over  and  sprang 
ahead  faster  than  ever. 

But  the  Greeks  were  undaunted.  Unable, 
at  the  increased  speed,  to  draw  themselves 
nearer  by  means  of  their  hands,  they  rigged 
from  the  blocks  of  their  boat  sail  what  sailors 
call  a  "watch-tackle."  One  of  them,  held 
by  the  legs  by  his  mates,  would  lean  far  over 
the  bow  and  make  the  tackle  fast  to  the  float- 
line.  Then  they  would  heave  in  on  the  tackle 
till  the  blocks  were  together,  when  the  ma- 
noeuvre would  be  repeated. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  167 

"Have  to  give  her  the  staysail/'  Charley 
said. 

Ole  Ericsen  looked  at  the  straining  Mary 
Rebecca  and  shook  his  head.  "It  will  take 
der  masts  out  of  her,"  he  said. 

"And  we'll  be  taken  out  of  her  if  you 
don't,"  Charley  replied. 

Ole  shot  an  anxious  glance  at  his  masts, 
another  at  the  boat  load  of  armed  Greeks, 
and  consented. 

The  five  men  were  in  the  bow  of  the  boat 
—  a  bad  place  when  a  craft  is  towing.  I  was 
watching  the  behavior  of  their  boat  as  the 
great  fisherman's  staysail,  far,  far  larger 
than  the  topsail  and  used  only  in  light 
breezes,  was  broken  out.  As  the  Mary 
Rebecca  lurched  forward  with  a  tremendous 
jerk,  the  nose  of  the  boat  ducked  down  into 
the  water,  and  the  men  tumbled  over  one 
another  in  a  wild  rush  into  the  stern  to  save 


i68  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

the  boat  from  being  dragged  sheer  undei 
water. 

"That  settles  them!"  Charley  remarked, 
though  he  was  anxiously  studying  the  behav- 
ior of  the  Mary  Reltcca,  which  was  being 
driven  under  far  more  canvas  than  she  was 
rightly  able  to  carry. 

"Next  stop  is  Antioch!"  announced  the 
cheerful  sailor,  after  the  manner  of  a  railway 
conductor.  "And  next  comes  Merry- 
weather!" 

"Come  here,  quick,"  Charley  said  to  me. 

I  crawled  across  the  deck  and  stood  upright 
beside  him  in  the  shelter  of  the  sheet  steel. 

"  Feel  in  my  inside  pocket,"  he  commanded, 
"and  get  my  notebook.  That's  right.  Tear 
out  a  blank  page  and  write  what  I  tell  you." 

And  this  is  what  I  wrote* 

Telephone  to  Merryvreather,  to  the  sheriff,  the 
constable,  or  the  judge.  Tell  them  we  are  coming 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  169 

and  to  turn  out  the  town.  Arm  everybody.  Have 
them  down  on  the  wharf  to  meet  us  or  we  are  gone 
gooses. 

"Now  make  it  good  and  fast  to  that  mar- 
linspike,  and  stand  by  to  toss  it  ashore." 

I  did  as  he  directed.  By  then  we  were 
close  to  Antioch.  The  wind  was  shouting 
through  our  rigging,  the  Mary  Rebecca  was 
half  over  on  her  side  and  rushing  ahead  like 
an  ocean  greyhound.  The  seafaring  folk 
of  Antioch  had  seen  us  breaking  out  top- 
sail and  staysail,  a  most  reckless  performance 
in  such  weather,  and  had  hurried  to  the 
wharf-ends  in  little  groups  to  find  out  what 
was  the  matter. 

Straight  down  the  water  front  we  boomed, 
Charley  edging  in  till  a  man  could  almost 
leap  ashore.  When  he  gave  the  signal  I 
tossed  the  marlinspike.  It  struck  the  plank- 
ing of  the  wharf  a  resounding  smash,  bounced 


170  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

along  fifteen  or  twenty  feet,  and  was  pounced 
upon  by  the  amazed  onlookers. 

It  all  happened  in  a  flash,  for  the  next 
minute  Antioch  was  behind  and  we  were 
heeling  it  up  the  San  Joaquin  toward  Merry- 
weather,  six  miles  away.  The  river  straight- 
ened out  here  into  its  general  easterly  course, 
and  we  squared  away  before  the  wind,  wing- 
and-wing  once  more,  the  foresail  bellying  out 
to  starboard. 

Ole  Ericsen  seemed  sunk  into  a  state  of 
stolid  despair.  Charley  and  the  two  sailors 
were  looking  hopeful,  as  they  had  good 
reason  to  be.  Merryweather  was  a  coal- 
mining town,  and,  it  being  Sunday,  it  was 
reasonable  to  expect  the  men  to  be  in  town. 
Further,  the  coal-miners  had  never  lost 
any  love  for  the  Greek  fishermen,  and 
were  pretty  certain  to  render  us  hearty 
assistance. 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  171 

We  strained  our  eyes  for  a  glimpse  of  the 
town,  and  the  first  sight  we  caught  of  it  gave 
us  immense  relief.  The  wharves  were  black 
with  men.  As  we  came  closer,  we  could  see 
them  still  arriving,  stringing  down  the  main 
street,  guns  in  their  hands  and  on  the  run. 
Charley  glanced  astern  at  the  fishermen 
with  a  look  of  ownership  in  his  eye  which 
till  then  had  been  missing.  The  Greeks 
were  plainly  overawed  by  the  display  of  armed 
strength  and  were  putting  their  own  rifles 
away. 

We  took  in  topsail  and  staysail,  dropped 
the  main  peak,  and  as  we  got  abreast  of  the 
principal  wharf  jibed  the  mainsail.  The 
Mary  Rebecca  shot  around  into  the  wind,  the 
captive  fishermen  describing  a  great  arc 
behind  her,  and  forged  ahead  till  she  lost 
way,  when  lines  were  flung  ashore  and  she 
was  made  fast.  This  was  accomplished  under 


172  CHARLEY'S   COUP 

a  hurricane  of  cheers  from  the  delighted 
miners. 

Ole  Ericsen  heaved  a  great  sigh.  "Ay 
never  tank  Ay  see  my  wife  never  again,"  he 
confessed. 

"Why,  we  were  never  in  any  danger," 
said  Charley. 

Ole  looked  at  him  incredulously. 

"Sure,  I  mean  it,"  Charley  went  on.  "All 
we  had  to  do,  any  time,  was  to  let  go  our  end 
—  as  I  am  going  to  do  now,  so  that  those 
Greeks  can  untangle  their  nets." 

He  went  below  with  a  monkey-wrench, 
unscrewed  the  nut,  and  let  the  hook  drop 
off.  When  the  Greeks  had  hauled  their  nets 
into  their  boats  and  made  everything  ship- 
shape,  a  posse  of  citizens  took  them  off  our 
hands  and  led  them  away  to  jail. 

"Ay  tank  Ay  ban  a  great  big  fool,"  said 
Ole  Ericsen.  But  he  changed  his  mind  when 


CHARLEY'S   COUP  173 

the  admiring  townspeople  crowded  aboard 
to  shake  hands  with  him,  and  a  couple  of 
enterprising  newspaper  men  took  photographs 
of  the  Mary  Rebecca  and  her  captain. 


VI 
DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 


DEMETRIOS  CONTOS 

IT  must  not  be  thought,  from  what  I  have 
told  of  the  Greek  fishermen,  that  they 
were  altogether  bad.  Far  from  it.  But 
they  were  rough  men,  gathered  together  in 
isolated  communities  and  fighting  with  the 
elements  for  a  livelihood.  They  lived  far 
away  from  the  law  and  its  workings,  did  not 
understand  it,  and  thought  it  tyranny.  Es- 
pecially did  the  fish  laws  seem  tyrannical. 
And  because  of  this,  they  looked  upon  the 
men  of  the  fish  patrol  as  their  natural 
enemies. 

We  menaced  their  lives,  or  their  living, 
which  is  the  same  thing,  in  many  ways.  We 
confiscated  illegal  traps  and  nets,  the  mate- 

M  I77 


178       DEMETRIOS  CONTOS 

rials  of  which  had  cost  them  considerable 
sums  and  the  making  of  which  required 
weeks  of  labor.  We  prevented  them  from 
catching  fish  at  many  times  and  seasons, 
which  was  equivalent  to  preventing  them 
from  making  as  good  a  living  as  they  might 
have  made  had  we  not  been  in  existence. 
And  when  we  captured  them,  they  were 
brought  into  the  courts  of  law,  where  heavy 
cash  fines  were  collected  from  them.  As  a 
result,  they  hated  us  vindictively.  As  the 
dog  is  the  natural  enemy  of  the  cat,  the  snake 
of  man,  so  were  we  of  the  fish  patrol  the 
natural  enemies  of  the  fishermen. 

But  it  is  to  show  that  they  could  act  gen- 
erously as  well  as  hate  bitterly  that  this  story 
of  Demetrios  Contos  is  told.  Demetrios  Con- 
tos  lived  in  Vallejo.  Next  to  Big  Alec,  he 
was  the  largest,  bravest,  and  most  influen- 
tial man  among  the  Greeks.  He  had  given 


DEMETR1OS   CONTOS        179 

us  no  trouble,  and  I  doubt  if  he  would  ever 
have  clashed  with  us  had  he  not  invested 
in  a  new  salmon  boat.  This  boat  was  the 
cause  of  all  the  trouble.  He  had  had  it  built 
upon  his  own  model,  in  which  the  lines  of  the 
general  salmon  boat  were  somewhat  modified. 
To  his  high  elation  he  found  his  new  boat 
very  fast  —  in  fact,  faster  than  any  other 
boat  on  the  bay  or  rivers.  Forthwith  he 
grew  proud  and  boastful:  and,  our  raid 
with  the  Mary  Rebecca  on  the  Sunday  salmon 
fishers  having  wrought  fear  in  their  hearts, 
he  sent  a  challenge  up  to  Benicia.  One  of 
the  local  fishermen  conveyed  it  to  us ;  it  was 
to  the  effect  that  Demetrios  Contos  would  sail 
up  from  Vallejo  on  the  following  Sunday, 
and  in  the  plain  sight  of  Benicia  set  his  net 
and  catch  salmon,  and  that  Charley  Le  Grant, 
patrolman,  might  come  and  get  him  if  he 
could.  Of  course  Charley  and  I  had  heard 


i8o       DEMETRIOS  CONTOS 

nothing  of  the  new  boat.  Our  own  boat  was 
pretty  fast,  and  we  were  not  afraid  to  have  a 
brush  with  any  other  that  happened  along. 

Sunday  came.  The  challenge  had  been 
bruited  abroad,  and  the  fishermen  and  sea- 
faring folk  of  Benicia  turned  out  to  a  man, 
crowding  Steamboat  Wharf  till  it  looked  like 
the  grand  stand  at  a  football  match.  Charley 
and  I  had  been  sceptical,  but  the  fact  of  the 
crowd  convinced  us  that  there  was  something 
in  Demetrios  Contos's  dare. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  the  sea-breeze  had 
picked  up  in  strength,  his  sail  hove  into  view 
as  he  bowled  along  before  the  wind.  He 
tacked  a  score  of  feet  from  the  wharf,  waved 
his  hand  theatrically,  like  a  knight  about  to 
enter  the  lists,  received  a  hearty  cheer  in 
return,  and  stood  away  into  the  Straits  for  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards.  Then  he  lowered 
sail,  and,  drifting  the  boat  sidewise  by  means 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        181 

of  the  wind,  proceeded  to  set  his  net.  He 
did  not  set  much  of  it,  possibly  fifty  feet ;  yet 
Charley  and  I  were  thunderstruck  at  the 
man's  effrontery.  We  did  not  know  at  the 
time,  but  we  learned  afterward,  that  the  net 
he  used  was  old  and  worthless.  It  could 
catch  fish,  true ;  but  a  catch  of  any  size  would 
have  torn  it  to  pieces. 

Charley  shook  his  head  and  said : 

"  I  confess,  it  puzzles  me.  What  if  he  has 
out  only  fifty  feet  ?  He  could  never  get  it  in 
if  we  once  started  for  him.  And  why  does 
he  come  here  anyway,  flaunting  his  law- 
breaking  in  our  faces  ?  Right  in  our  home 
town,  too." 

Charley's  voice  took  on  an  aggrieved  tone, 
and  he  continued  for  some  minutes  to  inveigh 
agamst  the  brazenness  of  Demetrios  Contos. 

In  the  meantime,  the  man  in  question  was 
lolling  in  the  stern  of  his  boat  and  watching 


1 82       DEMETRIOS  CONTOS 

the  net  floats.  When  a  large  fish  is  meshed 
in  a  gill-net,  the  floats  by  their  agitation  ad- 
vertise the  fact.  And  they  evidently  adver- 
tised it  to  Demetrios,  for  he  pulled  in  about 
a  dozen  feet  of  net,  and  held  aloft  for  a  mo- 
ment, before  he  flung  it  into  the  bottom  of 
the  boat,  a  big,  glistening  salmon.  It  was 
greeted  by  the  audience  on  the  wharf  with 
round  after  round  of  cheers.  This  was  more 
than  Charley  could  stand. 

"Come  on,  lad,"  he  called  to  me;  and  we 
lost  no  time  jumping  into  our  salmon  boat 
and  getting  up  sail. 

The  crowd  shouted  warning  to  Demetrios, 
and  as  we  darted  out  from  the  wharf  we  saw 
him  slash  his  worthless  net  clear  with  a  long 
knife.  His  sail  was  all  ready  to  go  up,  and  a 
moment  later  it  fluttered  in  the  sunshine. 
He  ran  aft,  drew  in  the  sheet,  and  filled  on 
the  long  tack  toward  the  Contra  Costa  Hills. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       183 

By  this  time  we  were  not  more  than  thirty 
feet  astern.  Charley  was  jubilant.  He  knew 
our  boat  was  fast,  and  he  knew,  further,  that 
in  fine  sailing  few  men  were  his  equals. 
He  was  confident  that  we  should  surely  catch 
Demetrios,  and  I  shared  his  confidence.  But 
somehow  we  did  not  seem  to  gain. 

It  was  a  pretty  sailing  breeze.  We  were 
gliding  sleekly  through  the  water,  but  Deme- 
trios was  slowly  sliding  away  from  us.  And 
not  only  was  he  going  faster,  but  he  was  eat- 
ing into  the  wind  a  fraction  of  a  point  closer 
than  we.  This  was  sharply  impressed  upon 
us  when  he  went  about  under  the  Contra 
Costa  Hills  and  passed  us  on  the  other  tack 
fully  one  hundred  feet  dead  to  windward. 

"Whew!"  Charley  exclaimed.  "Either 
that  boat  is  a  daisy,  or  we've  got  a  five-gallon 
coal-oil  can  fast  to  our  keel  1" 

It  certainly  looked  it  one  way  or  the  other 


1 84       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

And  by  the  time  Demetrios  made  the  Sonoma 
Hills,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Straits,  we  were 
so  hopelessly  outdistanced  that  Charley  told 
me  to  slack  off  the  sheet,,  and  we  squared 
away  for  Benicia.  The  fishermen  on  Steam- 
boat Wharf  showered  us  with  ridicule  when 
we  returned  and  tied  up.  Charley  and  I 
got  out  and  walked  away,  feeling  rather 
sheepish,  for  it  is  a  sore  stroke  to  one's  pride 
when  he  thinks  he  has  a  good  boat  and 
knows  how  to  sail  it,  and  another  man  comes 
along  and  beats  him. 

Charley  mooned  over  it  for  a  couple  of 
days;  then  word  was  brought  to  us,  as  be- 
fore, that  on  the  next  Sunday  Demetrios  Con- 
tos  would  repeat  his  performance.  Charley 
roused  himself.  He  had  our  boat  out  of  the 
water,  cleaned  and  repainted  its  bottom, 
made  a  trifling  alteration  about  the  centre- 
board, overhauled  the  running  gear,  and  sat 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       185 

up  nearly  all  of  Saturday  night  sewing  on  a 
new  and  much  larger  sail.  So  large  did  he 
make  it,  in  fact,  that  additional  ballast  was 
imperative,  and  we  stowed  away  nearly  five 
hundred  extra  pounds  of  old  railroad  iron 
in  the  bottom  of  the  boat. 

Sunday  came,  and  with  it  came  Demetrios 
Contos,  to  break  the  law  defiantly  in  open 
day.  Again  we  had  the  afternoon  sea-breeze, 
and  again  Demetrios  cut  loose  some  forty  or 
more  feet  of  his  rotten  net,  and  got  up  sail 
and  under  way  under  our  very  noses.  But  he 
had  anticipated  Charley's  move,  and  his  own 
sail  peaked  higher  than  ever,  while  a  whole 
extra  cloth  had  been  added  to  the  after 
leech. 

It  was  nip  and  tuck  across  to  the  Contra 
Costa  Hills,  neither  of  us  seeming  to  gain  or 
to  lose.  But  by  the  time  we  had  made  the 
return  tack  to  the  Sonoma  Hills,  we  could  see 


186       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

that,  while  we  footed  it  at  about  equal  speed, 
Demetrios  had  eaten  into  the  wind  the  least 
bit  more  than  we.  Yet  Charley  was  sailing 
our  boat  as  finely  and  delicately  as  it  was 
possible  to  sail  it,  and  getting  more  out  of 
it  than  he  ever  had  before. 

Of  course,  he  could  have  drawn  his  revol- 
ver and  fired  at  Demetrios ;  but  we  had  long 
since  found  it  contrary  to  our  natures  to  shoot 
at  a  fleeing  man  guilty  of  only  a  petty  offence. 
Also  a  sort  of  tacit  agreement  seemed  to  have 
been  reached  between  the  patrolmen  and  the 
fishermen.  If  we  did  not  shoot  while  they 
ran  away,  they,  in  turn,  did  not  fight  if  we 
once  laid  hands  on  them.  Thus  Demetrios 
Contos  ran  away  from  us,  and  we  did  no  more 
than  try  our  best  to  overtake  him;  and,  in 
turn,  if  our  boat  proved  faster  than  his,  or 
was  sailed  better,  he  would,  we  knew,  make 
no  resistance  when  we  caught  up  with  him. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       187 

With  our  large  sails  and  the  healthy  breeze 
romping  up  the  Carquinez  Straits,  we  found 
that  our  sailing  was  what  is  called  "ticklish." 
We  had  to  be  constantly  on  the  alert  to  avoid 
a  capsize,  and  while  Charley  steered  I  held 
the  main-sheet  in  my  hand  with  but  a  single 
turn  round  a  pin,  ready  to  let  go  at  any  mo- 
ment. Demetrios,  we  could  see,  sailing  his 
boat  alone,  had  his  hands  full. 

But  it  was  a  vain  undertaking  for  us  to 
attempt  to  catch  him.  Out  of  his  inner  con- 
sciousness he  had  evolved  a  boat  that  was 
better  than  ours.  And  though  Charley  sailed 
fully  as  well,  if  not  the  least  bit  better,  the 
boat  he  sailed  was  not  so  good  as  the  Greek's. 

"Slack  away  the  sheet,"  Charley  com- 
manded; and  as  our  boat  fell  off  before 
the  wind,  Demetrios's  mocking  laugh  floated 
down  to  us. 

Charley  shook  his  head,  saying,  "It's  no 


1 88        DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

use.  Demetrios  has  the  better  boat.  If  he 
tries  his  performance  again,  we  must  meet  it 
with  some  aew  scheme." 

This  time  it  was  my  imagination  that 
came  to  the  rescue. 

"What's  the  matter,"  I  suggested,  on  the 
Wednesday  following,  "with  my  chasing  De- 
metrios in  the  boat  next  Sunday,  while  you 
wait  for  him  on  the  wharf  at  Vallejo  when  he 
arrives  ?" 

Charley  considered  it  a  moment  and  slapped 
his  knee. 

"A  good  idea!  You're  beginning  to  use 
that  head  of  yours.  A  credit  to  your  teacher, 
I  must  say." 

"But  you  mustn't  chase  him  too  far,"  he 
went  on,  the  next  moment,  "or  he'll  head  out 
into  San  Pablo  Bay  instead  of  running  home 
to  Vallejo,  and  there  I'll  be,  standing  lonely 
on  the  wharf  and  waiting  in  vain  for  him  to 


arrive." 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       189 

On  Thursday  Charley  registered  an  ob- 
jection to  my  plan. 

"  Everybody'll  know  I've  gone  to  Vallejo, 
and  you  can  depend  upon  it  that  Demetrios 
will  know,  too.  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to  give 
up  the  idea." 

This  objection  was  only  too  valid,  and  for 
the  rest  of  the  day  I  struggled  under  my  dis- 
appointment. But  that  night  a  new  way 
seemed  to  open  to  me,  and  in  my  eagerness  I 
awoke  Charley  from  a  sound  sleep. 

"Well,"  he  grunted,  "what's  the  matter? 
House  afire?" 

"No,"  I  replied,  "but  my  head  is.  Listen 
to  this.  On  Sunday  you  and  I  will  be  around 
Benicia  up  to  the  very  moment  Demetrios's 
sail  heaves  into  sight.  This  will  lull  every- 
body's suspicions.  Then,  when  Demetrios's 
sail  does  heave  in  sight,  do  you  stroll  leisurely 
away  and  up-town.  All  the  fishermen  will 


190       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

think  you're  beaten  and  that  you  know  you're 
beaten." 

"So  far,  so  good,"  Charley  commented, 
while  I  paused  to  catch  breath. 

"And  very  good  indeed,"  I  continued 
proudly.  "You  stroll  carelessly  up-town, 
but  when  you're  once  out  of  sight  you  leg  it 
for  all  you're  worth  for  Dan  Maloney's. 
Take  the  little  mare  of  his,  and  strike  out  on 
the  county  road  for  Vallejo.  The  road's  in 
fine  condition,  and  you  can  make  it  in  quicker 
time  than  Demetrios  can  beat  all  the  way 
down  against  the  wind." 

"And  I'll  arrange  right  away  for  the  mare, 
first  thing  in  the  morning,"  Charley  said, 
accepting  the  modified  plan  without  hesita- 
tion. 

tl  But,  I  say,"  he  said,  a  little  later,  this  time 
waking  me  out  of  a  sound  sleep. 

I  could  hear  him  chuckling  in  the  dark. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       191 

"I  say,  lad,  isn't  it  rather  a  novelty  for  the 
fish  patrol  to  be  taking  to  horseback  ?" 

"Imagination,"  I  answered.  "It's  what 
you're  always  preaching  —  'keep  thinking 
one  thought  ahead  of  the  other  fellow,  and 
you're  bound  to  win  out.'" 

"He!  he!"  he  chuckled.  "And  if  one 
thought  ahead,  including  a  mare,  doesn't 
take  the  other  fellow's  breath  away  this  time, 
I'm  not  your  humble  servant,  Charley  Le 
Grant." 

"But  can  you  manage  the  boat  alone?" 
he  asked,  on  Friday.  "Remember,  we've  a 
ripping  big  sail  on  her." 

I  argued  my  proficiency  so  well  that  he 
did  not  refer  to  the  matter  again  till  Saturday, 
when  he  suggested  removing  one  whole  cloth 
from  the  after  leech.  I  guess  it  was  the  dis- 
appointment written  on  my  face  that  made 
him  desist;  for  I,  also,  had  a  pride  in  mjr 


192       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

boat-sailing  abilities,  and  I  was  almost  wild 
to  get  out  alone  with  the  big  sail  and  go  tear- 
ing down  the  Carquinez  Straits  in  the  wake 
of  the  flying  Greek. 

As  usual,  Sunday  and  Demetrios  Contos 
arrived  together.  It  had  become  the  regular 
thing  for  the  fishermen  to  assemble  on  Steam- 
boat Wharf  to  greet  his  arrival  and  to  laugh 
at  our  discomfiture.  He  lowered  sail  a 
couple  of  hundred  yards  out  and  set  his  cus- 
tomary fifty  feet  of  rotten  net. 

"I  suppose  this  nonsense  will  keep  up  as 
long  as  his  old  net  holds  out,"  Charley 
grumbled,  with  intention,  in  the  hearing  of 
several  of  the  Greeks. 

"  Den  I  give-a  heem  my  old-a  net-a,"  one  of 
them  spoke  up,  promptly  and  maliciously. 

"I  don't  care,"  Charley  answered.  "I've 
got  some  old  net  myself  he  can  have  —  if  he'll 
come  around  and  ask  for  it." 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        193 

They  all  laughed  at  this,  for  they  could 
afford  to  be  sweet-tempered  with  a  man  so 
badly  outwitted  as  Charley  was. 

"Well,  so  long,  lad,"  Charley  called  to  me 
a  moment  later.  "I  think  I'll  go  up-town  to 
Maloney's." 

"Let  me  take  the  boat  out  ?"  I  asked. 

"If  you  want  to,"  was  his  answer,  as  he 
turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  slowly  away. 

Demetrios  pulled  two  large  salmon  out  of 
his  net,  and  I  jumped  into  the  boat.  The 
fishermen  crowded  around  in  a  spirit  of  fun, 
and  when  I  started  to  get  up  sail  overwhelmed 
me  with  all  sorts  of  jocular  advice.  They 
even  offered  extravagant  bets  to  one  another 
that  I  would  surely  catch  Demetrios,  and  two 
of  them,  styling  themselves  the  committee  of 
judges,  gravely  asked  permission  to  come 
along  with  me  to  see  how  I  am  it. 

But  I  was  in  no  hurry.     I  waited  to  give 


194       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

Charley  all  the  time  I  could,  and  I  pretended 
dissatisfaction  with  the  stretch  of  the  sail  and 
slightly  shifted  the  small  tackle  by  which  the 
huge  sprit  forces  up  the  peak.  It  was  not 
until  I  was  sure  that  Charley  had  reached 
Dan  Maloney's  and  was  on  the  little  mare's 
back,  that  I  cast  off  from  the  wharf  and  gave 
the  big  sail  to  the  wind.  A  stout  puff  filled  it 
and  suddenly  pressed  the  lee  gunwale  down 
till  a  couple  of  buckets  of  water  came  inboard. 
A  little  thing  like  this  will  happen  to  the  best 
small-boat  sailors,  and  yet,  though  I  instantly 
let  go  the  sheet  and  righted,  I  was  cheered 
sarcastically,  as  though  I  had  been  guilty  of 
a  very  awkward  blunder. 

When  Demetrios  saw  only  one  person  in 
the  fish  patrol  boat,  and  that  one  a  boy,  he 
proceeded  to  play  with  me.  Making  a  short 
tack  out,  witn  me  not  thirty  feet  behind, 
he  returned,  with  his  sheet  a  little  free, 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       195 

to  Steamboat  Wharf.  And  there  he  made 
short  tacks,  and  turned  and  twisted  and 
ducked  around,  to  the  great  delight  of  his 
sympathetic  audience.  I  was  right  behind 
him  all  the  time,  and  I  dared  to  do  whatever 
he  did,  even  when  he  squared  away  before 
the  wind  and  jibed  his  big  sail  over  —  a  most 
dangerous  trick  with  such  a  sail  in  such  a 
wind. 

He  depended  upon  the  brisk  sea  breeze 
and  the  strong  ebb  tide,  which  together  kicked 
up  a  nasty  sea,  to  bring  me  to  grief.  But 
I  was  on  my  mettle,  and  never  in  all  my  life 
did  I  sail  a  boat  better  than  on  that  day.  I 
was  keyed  up  to  concert  pitch,  my  brain  was 
working  smoothly  and  quickly,  my  hands 
never  fumbled  once,  and  it  seemed  that  I 
almost  divined  the  thousand  little  things 
which  a  small-boat  sailor  must  be  taking  into 
consideration  every  second. 


196        DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

It  was  Demetrios  who  came  to  grief  instead. 
Something  went  wrong  with  his  centre-board, 
so  that  it  jammed  in  the  case  and  would  not 
go  all  the  way  down.  In  a  moment's  breath- 
ing space,  which  he  had  gained  from  me  by 
a  clever  trick,  I  saw  him  working  impatiently 
with  the  centre-board,  trying  to  force  it  down. 
I  gave  him  little  time,  and  he  was  compelled 
quickly  to  return  to  the  tiller  and  sheet. 

The  centre-board  made  him  anxious.  He 
gave  over  playing  with  me,  and  started  on 
the  long  beat  to  Vallejo.  To  my  joy,  on  the 
first  long  tack  across,  I  found  that  I  could  eat 
into  the  wind  just  a  little  bit  closer  than  he. 
Here  was  where  another  man  in  the  boat 
would  have  been  of  value  to  him ;  for,  with 
me  but  a  few  feet  astern,  he  did  not  dare  let 
go  the  tiller  and  run  amidships  to  try  to  force 
down  the  centre-board. 

Unable  to  hang  on  as  close  in  the  eye  of 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        197 

the  wind  as  formerly,  he  proceeded  to  slack 
his  sheet  a  trifle  and  to  ease  off  a  bit,  in  order 
to  outfoot  me.  This  I  permitted  him  to  do 
till  I  had  worked  to  windward,  when  I  bore 
down  upon  him.  As  I  drew  close,  he  feinted 
at  coming  about.  This  led  me  to  shoot  into 
the  wind  to  forestall  him.  But  it  was  only 
a  feint,  cleverly  executed,  and  he  held  back 
to  his  course  while  I  hurried  to  make  up  lost 
ground. 

He  was  undeniably  smarter  than  I  when 
it  came  to  manoeuvring.  Time  after  time 
I  all  but  had  him,  and  each  time  he  tricked 
me  and  escaped.  Besides,  the  wind  was 
freshening  constantly,  and  each  of  us  had 
his  hands  full  to  avoid  capsizing.  As  for  my 
boat,  it  could  not  have  been  kept  afloat  buf 
for  the  extra  ballast.  I  sat  cocked  over  tru, 
weather  gunwale,  tiller  in  one  hand  and  sheet 
in  the  other;  and  the  sheet,  with  a  single 


198       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

turn  around  a  pin,  I  was  very  often  forced  to 
let  go  in  the  severer  puffs.  This  allowed  the 
sail  to  spill  the  wind,  which  was  equivalent 
to  taking  off  so  much  driving  power,  and  of 
course  I  lost  ground.  My  consolation  was 
that  Demetrios  was  as  often  compelled  to  do 
the  same  thing. 

The  strong  ebb-tide,  racing  down  the  Straits 
in  the  teeth  of  the  wind,  caused  an  unusually 
heavy  and  spiteful  sea,  which  dashed  aboard 
continually.  I  was  dripping  wet,  and  even 
the  sail  was  wet  half-way  up  the  after  leech. 
Once  I  did  succeed  in  outmanoeuvring 
Demetrios,  so  that  my  bow  bumped  into  him 
amidships.  Here  was  where  I  should  have 
had  another  man.  Before  I  could  run  for- 
ward and  leap  aboard,  he  shoved  the  boats 
apart  with  an  oar,  laughing  mockingly  in  my 
face  as  he  did  so. 

We  were  now  at  the  mouth  of  the  Straits, 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       199 

in  a  bad  stretch  of  water.  Here  the  Vallejo 
Straits  and  the  Carquinez  Straits  rushed 
directly  at  each  other.  Through  the  first 
flowed  all  the  water  of  Nap  a  River  and  the 
great  tide-lands;  through  the  second  flowed 
all  the  water  of  Suisun  Bay  and  the  Sacra- 
mento and  San  Joaquin  rivers.  And  where 
such  immense  bodies  of  water,  flowing 
swiftly,  clashed  together,  a  terrible  tide-rip 
was  produced.  To  make  it  worse,  the  wind 
howled  up  San  Pablo  Bay  for  fifteen  miles  and 
drove  in  a  tremendous  sea  upon  the  tide-rip. 
Conflicting  currents  tore  about  in  all  direc- 
tions, colliding,  forming  whirlpools,  sucks, 
and  boils,  and  shooting  up  spitefully  into 
hollow  waves  which  fell  aboard  as  often  from 
leeward  as  from  windward.  And  through 
it  all,  confused,  driven  into  a  madness  of 
motion,  thundered  the  great  smoking  seas 
from  San  Pablo  Bay. 


200       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

I  was  as  wildly  excited  as  the  water.  The 
boat  was  behaving  splendidly,  leaping  and 
lurching  through  the  welter  like  a  race-horse. 
I  could  hardly  contain  myself  with  the  joy 
of  it.  The  huge  sail,  the  howling  wind,  the 
driving  seas,  the  plunging  boat  —  I,  a  pygmy, 
a  mere  speck  in  the  midst  of  it,  was  mastering 
the  elemental  strife,  flying  through  it  and 
over  it,  triumphant  and  victorious. 

And  just  then,  as  I  roared  along  like  a  con- 
quering hero,  the  boat  received  a  frightful 
smash  and  came  instantly  to  a  dead  stop.  I 
was  flung  forward  and  into  the  bottom. 
As  I  sprang  up  I  caught  a  fleeting  glimpse  of 
a  greenish,  barnacle-covered  object,  and  knew 
it  at  once  for  what  it  was,  that  terror  of  navi- 
gation, a  sunken  pile.  No  man  may  guard 
against  such  a  thing.  Water-logged  and 
floating  just  beneath  the  surface,  it  was  im- 
possible to  sight  it  in  the  troubled  water  in 
time  to  escape. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       201 

The  whole  bow  of  the  boat  must  have  been 
crushed  in,  for  in  a  few  seconds  the  boat  was 
half  full.  Then  a  couple  of  seas  filled  it,  and 
it  sank  straight  down,  dragged  to  bottom  by 
the  heavy  ballast.  So  quickly  did  it  all 
happen  that  I  was  entangled  in  the  sail  and 
drawn  under.  When  I  fought  my  way  to 
the  surface,  suffocating,  my  lungs  almost 
bursting,  I  could  see  nothing  of  the  oars. 
They  must  have  been  swept  away  by  the 
chaotic  currents.  I  saw  Demetrios  Contos 
looking  back  from  his  boat,  and  heard  the 
vindictive  and  mocking  tones  of  his  voice  as 
he  shouted  exultantly.  He  held  steadily  on 
his  course,  leaving  me  to  perish. 

There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  swim  for 
it,  which,  in  that  wild  confusion,  was  at  the 
best  a  matter  of  but  a  few  moments.  Hold- 
ing my  breath  and  working  with  my  hands, 
I  managed  to  get  off  my  heavy  sea-boots  and 


202       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

my  jacket.  Yet  there  was  very  little  breath 
I  could  catch  to  hold,  and  I  swiftly  discovered 
that  it  was  not  so  much  a  matter  of  swimming 
as  of  breathing. 

I  was  beaten  and  buffeted,  smashed  under 
by  the  great  San  Pablo  whitecaps,  and 
strangled  by  the  hollow  tide-rip  waves  which 
flung  themselves  into  my  eyes,  nose,  and 
mouth.  Then  the  strange  sucks  would  grip 
my  legs  and  drag  me  under,  to  spout  me  up 
in  some  fierce  boiling,  where,  even  as  I  tried 
to  catch  my  breath,  a  great  whitecap  would 
crash  down  upon  my  head. 

It  was  impossible  to  survive  any  length  of 
time.  I  was  breathing  more  water  than  air, 
and  drowning  all  the  time.  My  senses  began 
to  leave  me,  my  head  to  whirl  around.  I 
struggled  on,  spasmodically,  instinctively,  and 
was  barely  half  conscious  when  I  felt  myself 
caught  by  the  shoulders  and  hauled  over  the 
gunwale  of  a  boat. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        203 

For  some  time  I  lay  across  a  seat  where  I 
had  been  flung,  face  downward,  and  with  the 
water  running  out  of  my  mouth.  After  a 
while,  still  weak  and  faint,  I  turned  around 
to  see  who  was  my  rescuer.  And  there,  in 
the  stern,  sheet  in  one  hand  and  tiller  in  the 
other,  grinning  and  nodding  good-naturedly, 
sat  Demetrios  Contos.  He  had  intended  to 
leave  me  to  drown,  —  he  said  so  afterward,  — 
but  his  better  self  had  fought  the  battle,  con- 
quered, and  sent  him  back  to  me, 

"You  all-a  right?"    he  asked. 

I  managed  to  shape  a  "yes"  on  my  lips, 
though  I  could  not  yet  speak. 

"You  sail-a  de  boat  verr-a  good-a,"  he 
said.  "  So  good-a  as  a  man/' 

A  compliment  from  Demetrios  Contos  was 
a  compliment  indeed,  and  I  keenly  appreci- 
ated it,  though  I  could  onlv  nod  my  head  in 
acknowledgment. 


204       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

We  held  no  more  conversation,  for  I  was 
busy  recovering  and  he  was  busy  with  the 
boat.  He  ran  in  to  the  wharf  at  Vallejo, 
made  the  boat  fast,  and  helped  me  out.  Then 
it  was,  as  we  both  stood  on  the  wharf,  that 
Charley  stepped  out  from  behind  a  net-rack 
and  put  his  hand  on  Demetrios  Contos's 
arm. 

"He  saved  my  life,  Charley,"  I  protested; 
"and  I  don't  think  he  ought  to  be  arrested." 

A  puzzled  expression  came  into  Charley's 
face,  which  cleared  immediately  after,  in  a 
way  It  had  when  he  made  up  his  mind. 

"I  can't  help  it,  lad,"  he  said  kindly.  "I 
can't  go  back  on  my  duty,  and  it's  plain  duty 
to  arrest  him.  To-day  is  Sunday;  there  are 
two  salmon  in  his  boat  which  he  caught 
to-day.  What  else  can  I  do?" 

"  But  he  saved  my  life,"  I  persisted,  unable 
to  make  any  other  argument. 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS        205 

Demetrios  Contos's  face  went  black  with 
rage  when  he  learned  Charley's  judgment. 
He  had  a  sense  of  being  unfairly  treated. 
The  better  part  of  his  nature  had  triumphed, 
he  had  performed  a  generous  act  srtid  saved 
a  helpless  enemy,  and  in  return  the  enemy 
was  taking  him  to  jail. 

Charley  and  I  were  out  of  sorts  with  each 
other  when  we  went  back  to  Benicia.  I 
stood  for  the  spirit  of  the  law  and  not  the 
letter;  but  by  the  letter  Charley  made  his 
stand.  As  far  as  he  could  see,  there  was 
nothing  else  for  him  to  do.  The  law  said 
distinctly  that  no  salmon  should  be  caught 
on  Sunday.  He  was  a  patrolman,  and  it  was 
his  duty  to  enforce  that  law.  That  was  all 
there  was  to  it.  He  had  done  his  duty,  and 
his  conscience  was  clear.  Nevertheless,  the 
whole  thing  seemed  unjust  to  me,  and  I  felt 
very  sorry  for  Demetrios  Contos. 


ao6       DEMETRIOS   CONTOS 

Two  days  later  we  went  down  to  Vallejo 
to  the  trial.  I  had  to  go  along  as  a  witness, 
and  it  was  the  most  hateful  task  that  I  ever 
performed  in  my  life  when  I  testified  on  the 
witness  stand  to  seeing  Demetrios  catch  the 
two  salmon  Charley  had  captured  him  with. 

Demetrios  had  engaged  a  lawyer,  but  his 
case  was  hopeless.  The  jury  was  out  only  fif- 
teen minutes,  and  returned  a  verdict  of  guilty. 
The  judge  sentenced  Demetrios  to  pay  a  fine  of 
one  hundred  dollars  or  go  to  jail  for  fifty  days, 

Charley  stepped  up  to  the  clerk  of  the  court. 
"  I  want  to  pay  that  fine,"  he  said,  at  the  same 
time  placing  five  twenty-dollar  gold  pieces  on 
the  desk.  "  It  —  it  was  the  only  way  out  of 
it,  lad,"  he  stammered,  turning  to  me. 

The  moisture  rushed  into  my  eyes  as  I 
seized  his  hand.  "  I  want  to  pay  — "  I  began. 

"To  pay  your  half?"  he  interrupted.  "I 
certainly  shall  expect  you  to  pay  it." 


DEMETRIOS   CONTOS       207 

In  the  meantime  Demetrios  had  been  in- 
formed by  his  lawyer  that  his  fee  likewise  had 
been  paid  by  Charley. 

Demetrios  came  over  to  shake  Charley's 
hand,  and  all  his  warm  Southern  blood 
flamed  in  his  face.  Then,  not  to  be  outdone 
in  generosity,  he  insisted  on  paying  his  fine 
and  lawyer's  fee  himself,  and  flew  half-way 
into  a  passion  because  Charley  refused  to  let 
him. 

More  than  anything  else  we  ever  did,  I 
think,  this  action  of  Charley's  impressed  upon 
the  fishermen  the  deeper  significance  of  the 
law.  Also  Charley  was  raised  high  in  their 
esteem,  while  I  came  in  for  a  little  share  of 
praise  as  a  boy  who  knew  how  to  sail  a  boat. 
Demetrios  Contos  not  only  never  broke  the 
law  again,  but  he  became  a  very  good  friend 
of  ours,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  he 
ran  up  to  Benicia  to  have  a  gossip  with  us. 


VII 

YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

"  T '  M  not  wanting  to  dictate  to  you,  lad," 

Charley  said;  "but   I'm   very   much 

against  your  making    a    last    raid. 

You've  gone  safely  through  rough  times  with 

rough  men,  and  it  would  be  a  shame  to  have 

something  happen  to  you  at  the  very  end." 

"But  how  can  I  get  out  of  making  a  last 
raid  ?"  I  demanded,  with  the  cocksureness 
of  youth.  "  There  always  has  to  be  a  last, 
you  know,  to  anything." 

Charley  crossed  his  legs,  leaned  back,  and 
considered  the  problem.  "Very  true.  But 
why  not  call  the  capture  of  Demetrios  Contos 
the  last  ?  You're  back  from  it  safe  and 
sound  and  hearty,  for  all  your  good  wetting, 
and  —  and  — "  His  voice  broke  and  he 


212     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

could  not  speak  for  a  moment.  "And  I 
could  never  forgive  myself  if  anything  hap- 
pened to  you  now." 

I  laughed  at  Charley's  fears  while  I  gave 
in  to  the  claims  of  his  affection,  and  agreed 
to  consider  the  last  raid  already  performed. 
We  had  been  together  for  two  years,  and  now 
I  was  leaving  the  fish  patrol  in  order  to  go 
back  and  finish  my  education.  I  had  earned 
and  saved  money  to  put  me  through  three 
years  at  the  high  school,  and  though  the 
beginning  of  the  term  was  several  months 
away,  I  intended  doing  a  lot  of  studying  for 
the  entrance  examinations. 

My  belongings  were  packed  snugly  in  a 
sea-chest,  and  I  was  all  ready  to  buy  my 
ticket  and  ride  down  on  the  train  to  Oak- 
land, when  Neil  Partington  arrived  in  Beni- 
cia.  The  Reindeer  was  needed  immediately 
for  work  far  down  on  the  Lower  Bay,  and 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     213 

Neil  said  he  intended  to  run  straight  for  Oak- 
land. As  that  was  his  home  and  as  I  was 
to  live  with  his  family  while  going  to  school, 
he  saw  no  reason,  he  said,  why  I  should  not 
put  my  chest  aboard  and  come  along. 

So  the  chest  went  aboard,  and  in  the 
middle  of  the  afternoon  we  hoisted  the  Rein- 
deer s  big  mainsail  and  cast  off.  It  was  tan- 
talizing fall  weather.  The  sea-breeze,  which 
had  blown  steadily  all  summer,  was  gone, 
and  in  its  place  were  capricious  winds  and 
murky  skies  which  made  the  time  of  arriv- 
ing anywhere  extremely  problematical.  We 
started  on  the  first  of  the  ebb,  and  as  we 
slipped  down  the  Carquinez  Straits,  I  looked 
my  last  for  some  time  upon  Benicia  and  the 
bight  at  Turner's  Shipyard,  where  we  had 
besieged  the  Lancashire  Queen,  and  had 
captured  Big  Alec,  the  King  of  the  Greeks. 
And  at  the  mouth  of  the  Straits  I  looked  with 


214     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

not  a  little  interest  upon  the  spot  where  a 
few  days  before  I  should  have  drowned  but 
for  the  good  that  was  in  the  nature  of  Deme- 
trios  Contos. 

A  great  wall  of  fog  advanced  across  San 
Pablo  Bay  to  meet  us,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
the  Reindeer  was  running  blindly  through  the 
damp  obscurity.  Charley,  who  was  steering, 
seemed  to  have  an  instinct  for  that  kind  of 
work.  How  he  did  it,  he  himself  confessed 
that  he  did  not  know;  but  he  had  a  way 
of  calculating  winds,  currents,  distance, 
time,  drift,  and  sailing  speed  that  was  truly 
marvellous. 

"It  looks  as  though  it  were  lifting,"  Neil 
Partington  said,  a  couple  of  hours  after  we 
had  entered  the  fog.  "Where  do  you  say  we 
are,  Charley?" 

Charley  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Six  o'clock, 
and  three  hours  more  of  ebb,"  he  remarked 
casually. 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     215 

"But  where  do  you  say  we  are?"  Neil 
insisted. 

Charley  pondered  a  moment,  and  then 
answered,  "The  tide  has  edged  us  over  a 
bit  out  of  our  course,  but  if  the  fog  lifts  right 
now,  as  it  is  going  to  lift,  you'll  find  we're 
not  more  than  a  thousand  miles  off  McNear's 
Landing." 

"You  might  be  a  little  more  definite  by  a 
few  miles,  anyway,"  Neil  grumbled,  showing 
by  his  tone  that  he  disagreed. 

"All  right,  then,"  Charley  said,  conclu- 
sively, "  not  less  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  not 
more  than  a  half." 

The  wind  freshened  with  a  couple  of  little 
puffs,  and  the  fog  thinned  perceptibly. 

'McNear's  is  right  off  there,"  Charley 
said,  pointing  directly  into  the  fog  on  our 
weather  beam. 

The  three  of  us  were  peering  intently  in 


2i6     YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

that  direction,  when  the  Reindeer  struck  with 
a  dull  crash  and  came  to  a  standstill.  We 
ran  forward,  and  found  her  bowsprit  en- 
tangled in  the  tanned  rigging  of  a  short, 
chunky  mast.  She  had  collided,  head  on, 
with  a  Chinese  junk  lying  at  anchor. 

At  the  moment  we  arrived  forward,  five 
Chinese,  like  so  many  bees,  came  swarming 
out  of  the  little  'tween-decks  cabin,  the 
sleep  still  in  their  eyes. 

Leading  them  came  a  big,  muscular  man, 
conspicuous  for  his  pock-marked  face  and 
the  yellow  silk  handkerchief  swathed  about 
his  head.  It  was  Yellow  Handkerchief,  the 
Chinaman  whom  we  had  arrested  for  illegal 
shrimp-fishing  the  year  before,  and  who,  at 
that  time,  had  nearly  sunk  the  Reindeer,  as 
he  had  nearly  sunk  it  now  by  violating  the 
rules  of  navigation. 

"What  d'ye  mean,  you  yellow-faced   hea- 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     217 

then,  lying  here  in  a  fairway  without  a  horn 
a-going?"  Charley  cried  hotly. 

"Mean?"  Neil  calmly  answered.  "Just 
take  a  look  —  that's  what  he  means." 

Our  eyes  followed  the  direction  indicated 
by  Neil's  finger,  and  we  saw  the  open  amid- 
ships of  the  junk,  half  filled,  as  we  found 
on  closer  examination,  with  fresh-caught 
shrimps.  Mingled  with  the  shrimps  were 
myriads  of  small  fish,  from  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  upward  in  size.  Yellow  Handkerchief 
had  lifted  the  trap-net  at  high-water  slack, 
and,  taking  advantage  of  the  concealment 
offered  by  the  fog,  had  boldly  been  lying  by, 
waiting  to  lift  the  net  again  at  low-water  slack 

"Well,"  Neil  hummed  and  hawed,  "in 
all  my  varied  and  extensive  experience  as  a 
fish  patrolman,  I  must  say  this  is  the  easiest 
capture  I  ever  made.  What'll  we  do  with 
them,  Charley  ? " 


2i8     YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

"Tow  the  junk  into  San  Rafael,  of  course," 
came  the  answer.  Charley  turned  to  met 
"You  stand  by  the  junk,  lad,  and  I'll  pass 
you  a  towing  line.  If  the  wind  doesn't  fail 
us,  we'll  make  the  creek  before  the  tide  gets 
too  low,  sleep  at  San  Rafael,  and  arrive  in 
Oakland  to-morrow  by  midday." 

So  saying,  Charley  and  Neil  returned  to 
the  Reindeer  and  got  under  way,  the  junk 
towing  astern.  I  went  aft  and  took  charge 
of  the  prize,  steering  by  means  of  an  anti- 
quated tiller  and  a  rudder  with  large,  dia- 
mond-shaped holes,  through  which  the  water 
rushed  back  and  forth. 

By  now  the  last  of  the  fog  had  vanished, 
and  Charley's  estimate  of  our  position  was 
confirmed  by  the  sight  of  McNear's  Landing 
a  short  half-mile  away.  Following  along  the 
west  shore,  we  rounded  Point  Pedro  in  plain 
view  of  the  Chinese  shrimp  villages,  and  a 


YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF     219 

great  to-do  was  raised  when  they  saw  one  of 
their  junks  towing  behind  the  familiar  fish 
patrol  sloop. 

The  wind,  coming  off  the  land,  was  rather 
puffy  and  uncertain,  and  it  would  have  beec 
more  to  our  advantage  had  it  been  stronger. 
San  Rafael  Creek,  up  which  we  had  to  go  to 
reach  the  town  and  turn  over  our  prisoners 
to  the  authorities,  ran  through  wide-stretch- 
ing marshes,  and  was  difficult  to  navigate  on 
a  falling  tide,  while  at  low  tide  it  was  impos- 
sible to  navigate  at  all.  So,  with  the  tide 
already  half-ebbed,  it  was  necessary  for  us  to 
make  time.  This  the  heavy  junk  prevented 
lumbering  along  behind  and  holding  the  Rein- 
Jeer  back  by  just  so  much  dead  weight. 

"Tell  those  coolies  to  get  up  that  sail," 
Charley  finally  called  to  me.  "We  don't 
want  to  hang  up  on  the  mud  flats  for  the  rest 
of  the  night." 


220    YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

I  repeated  the  order  to  Yellow  Handker- 
chief, who  mumbled  it  huskily  to  his  men. 
He  was  suffering  from  a  bad  cold,  which 
doubled  him  up  in  convulsive  coughing  spells 
and  made  his  eyes  heavy  and  bloodshot. 
This  made  him  more  evil-looking  than  ever, 
and  when  he  glared  viciously  at  me  I  remem- 
bered with  a  shiver  the  close  shave  I  had  had 
with  him  at  the  time  of  his  previous  arrest. 

His  crew  sullenly  tailed  on  to  the  halyards, 
and  the  strange,  outlandish  sail,  lateen  in 
rig  and  dyed  a  warm  brown,  rose  in  the  air. 
We  were  sailing  on  the  wind,  and  when  Yel- 
low Handkerchief  flattened  down  the  sheet 
the  junk  forged  ahead  and  the  tow-line  went 
slack.  Fast  as  the  Reindeer  could  sail,  the 
junk  outsailed  her;  and  to  avoid  running 
her  down  I  hauled  a  little  closer  on  the  wind. 
But  the  junk  likewise  outpointed,  and  in  a 
couple  of  minutes  I  was  abreast  of  the  Rein- 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     221 

deer  and  to  windward.  The  tow-line  had 
now  tautened,  at  right  angles  to  the  two  boats, 
and  the  predicament  was  laughable. 

"Cast  off!"    I  shouted. 

Charley  hesitated. 

"It's  all  right,"  I  added.  "Nothing  can 
happen.  We'll  make  the  creek  on  this  tack, 
and  you'll  be  right  behind  me  all  the  way  up 
to  San  Rafael." 

At  this  Charley  cast  off,  and  Yellow  Hand- 
kerchief sent  one  of  his  men  forward  to  haul 
in  the  line.  In  the  gathering  darkness  I 
could  just  make  out  the  mouth  of  San  Rafael 
Creek,  and  by  the  time  we  entered  it  I  could 
barely  see  its  banks.  The  Reindeer  was 
fully  five  minutes  astern,  and  we  continued 
to  leave  her  astern  as  we  beat  up  the  narrow, 
winding  channel.  With  Charley  behind  us, 
it  seemed  I  had  little  to  fear  from  my  five 
prisoners;  but  the  darkness  prevented  my 


222     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

keeping  a  sharp  eye  on  them,  so  I  transferred 
my  revolver  from  my  trousers  pocket  to  the 
side  pocket  of  my  coat,  where  I  could  more 
quickly  put  my  hand  on  it. 

Yellow  Handkerchief  was  the  one  I  feared, 
and  that  he  knew  it  and  made  use  of  it,  sub- 
sequent events  will  show.  He  was  sitting  a 
few  feet  away  from  me,  on  what  then  hap- 
pened to  be  the  weather  side  of  the  junk. 
I  could  scarcely  see  the  outlines  of  his  form, 
but  I  soon  became  convinced  that  he  was 
slowTly,  very  slowly,  edging  closer  to  me.  I 
watched  him  carefully.  Steering  with  my 
left  hand,  I  slipped  my  right  into  my  pocket 
and  got  hold  of  the  revolver. 

I  saw  him  shift  along  for  a  couple  of  inches, 
and  I  was  just  about  to  order  him  back  —  the 
words  were  trembling  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue 
—  when  I  was  struck  with  great  force  by  a 
heavy  figure  that  had  leaped  through  the  air 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     223 

upon  me  from  the  lee  side.  It  was  one  of  the 
crew.  He  pinioned  my  right  arm  so  that  I 
could  not  withdraw  my  hand  from  my  pocket, 
and  at  the  same  time  clapped  his  other  hand 
over  my  mouth.  Of  course,  I  could  have 
struggled  away  from  him  and  freed  my  hand 
or  gotten  my  mouth  clear  so  that  I  might  cry 
an  alarm,  but  in  a  trice  Yellow  Handkerchief 
was  on  top  of  me. 

I  struggled  around  to  no  purpose  in  the 
bottom  of  the  junk,  while  my  legs  and  arms 
were  tied  and  my  mouth  securely  bound  in 
what  I  afterward  found  to  be  a  cotton  shirt. 
Then  I  was  left  lying  in  the  bottom.  Yellow 
Handkerchief  took  the  tiller,  issuing  his 
orders  in  whispers;  and  from  our  position 
at  the  time,  and  from  the  alteration  of  the 
sail,  which  I  could  dimly  make  out  above 
me  as  a  blot  against  the  stars,  I  knew  the 
iunk  was  being  headed  into  the  mouth  of  a 


224     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

small  slough  which  emptied  at  that  point  into 
San  Rafael  Creek. 

In  a  couple  of  minutes  we  ran  softly  along- 
side the  bank,  and  the  sail  was  silently 
lowered.  The  Chinese  kept  very  quiet. 
Yellow  Handkerchief  sat  down  in  the  bottom 
alongside  of  me,  and  I  could  feel  him  strain- 
ing to  repress  his  raspy,  hacking  cough.  Pos- 
sibly seven  or  eight  minutes  later  I  heard 
Charley's  voice  as  the  Reindeer  went  past 
the  mouth  of  the  slough. 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  relieved  I  am/'  I 
could  plainly  hear  him  saying  to  Neil,  "that 
the  lad  has  finished  with  the  fish  patrol 
without  accident." 

Here  Neil  said  something  which  I  could 
not  catch,  and  then  Charley's  voice  went  on: 

"The  youngster  takes  naturally  to  the 
water,  and  if,  when  he  finishes  high  school, 
he  takes  a  course  in  navigation  and  goes  deep 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     225 

sea,  I  see  no  reason  why  he  shouldn't  rise  to 
be  master  of  the  finest  and  biggest  ship  afloat." 

It  was  all  very  flattering  to  me,  but  lying 
there,  bound  and  gagged  by  my  own  prisoners, 
with  the  voices  growing  faint  and  fainter  as 
the  Reindeer  slipped  on  through  the  darkness 
toward  San  Rafael,  I  must  say  I  was  not  in 
quite  the  proper  situation  to  enjoy  my  smil- 
ing future.  With  the  Reindeer  went  my  last 
hope.  What  was  to  happen  next  I  could  not 
imagine,  for  the  Chinese  \vere  a  different 
race  from  mine,  and  from  what  I  knew  I  was 
confident  that  fair  play  was  no  part  of  their 
make-up. 

After  waiting  a  few  minutes  longer,  the 
crew  hoisted  the  lateen  sail,  and  Yellow 
Handkerchief  steered  down  toward  the  mouth 
of  San  Rafael  Creek.  The  tide  was  getting 
lower,  and  he  had  difficulty  in  escaping  the 
mud-banks.  I  was  hoping  he  would  run 


226     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

aground,  but  he  succeeded  in  making  the 
Bay  without  accident. 

As  we  passed  out  of  the  creek  a  noisy  dis- 
cussion arose,  which  I  knew  related  to  me. 
Yellow  Handkerchief  was  vehement,  but  the 
other  four  as  vehemently  opposed  him.  It 
was  very  evident  that  he  advocated  doing 
away  with  me  and  that  they  were  afraid  of 
the  consequenc  .  I  was  familiar  enough 
with  the  Chines  character  to  know  that  fear 
alone  restrained  them.  But  what  plan  they 
offered  in  place  of  Yellow  Handkerchiefs 
murderous  one,  I  could  not  make  out. 

My  feelings,  as  my  fate  hung  in  the  balance, 
may  be  guessed.  The  discussion  developed 
into  a  quarrel,  in  the  midst  of  which  Yellow 
Handkerchief  unshipped  the  heavy  tiller  and 
sprang  toward  me.  But  his  four  companions 
threw  themselves  between,  and  a  clumsy 
struggle  took  place  for  possession  of  the  tiller 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     227 

In  the  end  Yellow  Handkerchief  was  over- 
come, and  sullenly  returned  to  the  steering, 
while  they  soundly  berated  him  for  his 
rashness. 

Not  long  after,  the  sail  was  run  down  and 
the  junk  slowly  urged  forward  by  means  of 
the  sweeps.  I  felt  it  ground  gently  on  the 
soft  mud.  Three  of  the  Chinese  —  they  all 
wore  long  sea-boots  —  got  over  the  side,  and 
the  other  two  passed  me  across  the  rail.  With 
Yellow  Handkerchief  at  my  legs  and  his  two 
companions  at  my  shoulders,  they  began  to 
flounder  along  through  the  mud.  After 
some  time  their  feet  struck  firmer  footing, 
and  I  knew  they  were  carrying  me  up  some 
beach.  The  location  of  this  beach  was  not 
doubtful  in  my  mind.  It  could  be  none 
other  than  one  of  the  Marin  Islands,  a  group 
of  rocky  islets  which  lay  off  the  Marin  County 
shore. 


228     YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

When  they  reached  the  firm  sand  that 
marked  high  tide,  I  was  dropped,  and  none 
too  gently.  Yellow  Handkerchief  kicked  me 
spitefully  in  the  ribs,  and  then  the  trio  floun- 
dered back  through  the  mud  to  the  junk.  A 
moment  later  I  heard  the  sail  go  up  and  slat 
in  the  wind  as  they  drew  in  the  sheet.  Then 
silence  fell,  and  I  was  left  to  my  own  devices 
for  getting  free. 

I  remembered  having  seen  tricksters 
writhe  and  squirm  out  of  ropes  with  which 
they  were  bound,  but  though  I  writhed  and 
squirmed  like  a  good  fellow,  the  knots  re- 
mained as  hard  as  ever,  and  there  was  no 
appreciable  slack.  In  the  course  of  my 
squirming,  however,  I  rolled  over  upon  a 
heap  of  clam-shells  —  the  remains,  evidently, 
of  some  yachting  party's  clam-bake.  This 
gave  me  an  idea.  My  hands  were  tied  behind 
my  back;  and,  clutching  a  shell  in  them,  I 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     229 

rolled  over  and  over,  up  the  beach,  till  I  came 
to  the  rocks  I  knew  to  be  there. 

Rolling  around  and  searching,  I  finally 
discovered  a  narrow  crevice,  into  which  I 
shoved  the  shell.  The  edge  of  it  was  sharp, 
and  across  the  sharp  edge  I  proceeded  to  saw 
the  rope  that  bound  my  wrists.  The  edge  of 
the  shell  was  also  brittle,  and  I  broke  it  by 
bearing  too  heavily  upon  it.  Then  I  rolled 
back  to  the  heap  and  returned  with  as  many 
shells  as  I  could  carry  in  both  hands.  I  broke 
many  shells,  cut  my  hands  a  number  of  times, 
and  got  cramps  in  my  legs  from  my  strained 
position  and  my  exertions. 

While  I  was  suffeiing  from  the  cramps, 
and  resting,  I  heard  a  familiar  halloo  drift 
across  the  water.  It  was  Charley,  searching 
for  me.  The  gag  in  my  mouth  prevented  me 
from  replying,  and  I  could  only  lie  there, 
helplessly  fuming,  while  he  rowed  past  the 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

island  and  his  voice  slowly  lost  itself  in  tl's 
distance. 

I  returned  to  the  sawing  process,  and  at  th~ 
end  of  half  an  hour  succeeded  in  severing  th'^ 
rope.  The  rest  was  easy.  My  hands  once 
free,  it  was  a  matter  of  minutes  to  loosen  my 
legs  and  to  take  the  gag  out  of  my  mouth. 
I  ran  around  the  island  to  make  sure  it  was 
an  island  and  not  by  any  chance  a  portion 
of  the  mainland.  An  island  it  certainly  was, 
one  of  the  Marin  group,  fringed  with  a  sandy 
beach  and  surrounded  by  a  sea  of  mud. 
Nothing  remained  but  to  wait  till  daylight 
and  to  keep  warm;  for  it  was  a  cold,  raw 
night  for  California,  with  just  enough  wind 
to  pierce  the  skin  and  cause  one  to  shiver. 

To  keep  up  the  circulation,  I  ran  around 
the  island  a  dozen  times  or  so,  and  clambered 
across  its  rocky  backbone  as  many  times  more 
—  all  of  which  was  of  greater  service  to  me, 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     231 

as  I  afterward  discovered,  than  merely  to 
warm  me  up.  In  the  midst  of  this  exercise 
I  wondered  if  I  had  lost  anything  out  of  my 
pockets  while  rolling  over  and  over  in  the 
sand.  A  search  showed  the  absence  of  my 
revolver  and  pocket-knife.  The  first  Yel- 
low Handkerchief  had  taken;  but  the  knife 
had  been  lost  in  the  sand. 

I  was  hunting  for  it  when  the  sound  of 
rowlocks  came  to  my  ears.  At  first,  of  course, 
I  thought  of  Charley;  but  on  second  thought 
I  knew  Charley  would  be  calling  out  as  he 
rowed  along.  A  sudden  premonition  of 
danger  seized  me.  The  Marin  Islands  are 
lonely  places;  chance  visitors  in  the  dead 
of  night  are  hardly  to  be  expected.  What 
if  it  were  Yellow  Handkerchief?  The  sound 
made  by  the  rowlocks  grew  more  distinct. 
I  crouched  in  the  sand  and  listened  intently. 
The  boat,  which  I  judged  a  small  skiff  from 


232     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

the  quick  stroke  of  the  oars,  was  landing  in 
the  mud  about  fifty  yards  up  the  beach.  I 
heard  a  raspy,  hacking  cough,  and  my  heart 
stood  still.  It  was  Yellow  Handkerchief. 
Not  to  be  robbed  of  his  revenge  by  his  more 
cautious  companions,  he  had  stolen  away 
from  the  village  and  come  back  alone. 

I  did  some  swift  thinking.  I  was  unarmed 
and  helpless  on  a  tiny  islet,  and  a  yellow  bar- 
barian, whom  I  had  reason  to  fear,  was 
coming  after  me.  Any  place  was  safer  than 
the  island,  and  I  turned  instinctively  to  the 
water,  or  rather  to  the  mud.  As  he  began 
to  flounder  ashore  through  the  mud,  I  started 
to  flounder  out  into  it,  going  over  the  same 
course  which  the  Chinese  had  taken  in  land- 
ing me  and  in  returning  to  the  junk. 

Yellow  Handkerchief,  believing  me  to  be 
lying  tightly  bound,  exercised  no  care,  but 
came  ashore  noisily.  This  helped  me,  for, 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     233 

under  the  shield  of  his  noise  and  making  no 
more  myself  than  necessary,  I  managed  to 
cover  fifty  feet  by  the  time  he  had  made  the 
beach.  Here  I  lay  down  in  the  mud.  It 
was  cold  and  clammy,  and  made  me  shiver, 
but  I  did  not  care  to  stand  up  and  run 
the  risk  of  being  discovered  by  his  sharp 
eyes. 

He  walked  down  the  beach  straight  to 
where  he  had  left  me  lying,  and  I  had  a  fleet- 
ing feeling  of  regret  at  not  being  able  to  see 
his  surprise  when  he  did  not  find  me.  But 
it  was  a  very  fleeting  regret,  for  my  teeth  were 
chattering  with  the  cold. 

What  his  movements  were  after  that  I  had 
largely  to  deduce  from  the  facts  of  the  situa- 
tion, for  I  could  scarcely  see  him  in  the  dim 
starlight.  But  I  was  sure  that  the  first  thing 
he  did  was  to  make  the  circuit  of  the  beach  to 
learn,  if  landings  had  been  made  by  other 


234     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

boats.  This  he  would  have  known  at  once 
by  the  tracks  through  the  mud. 

Convinced  that  no  boat  had  removed  me 
from  the  island,  he  next  started  to  find  out 
what  had  become  of  me.  Beginning  at  the 
pile  of  clam-shells,  he  lighted  matches  to  trace 
my  tracks  in  the  sand.  At  such  times  I 
could  see  his  villanous  face  plainly,  and, 
when  the  sulphur  from  the  matches  irritated 
his  lungs,  between  the  raspy  cough  that  fol- 
lowed and  the  clammy  mud  in  which  I  was 
lying,  I  confess  I  shivered  harder  than  ever. 

The  multiplicity  of  my  footprints  puzzled 
him.  Then  the  idea  that  I  might  be  out  in 
the  mud  must  have  struck  him,  for  he  waded 
out  a  few  yards  in  my  direction,  and,  stooping, 
with  his  eyes  searched  the  dim  surface  long 
and  carefully.  He  could  not  have  been  more 
than  fifteen  feet  from  me,  and  had  he  lighted 
a  match  he  would  surely  have  discovered  me. 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     235 

He  returned  to  the  beach  and  clambered 
about  over  the  rocky  backbone,  again  hunt- 
ing for  me  with  lighted  matches.  The  close- 
ness of  the  shave  impelled  me  to  further  flight. 
Not  daring  to  wade  upright,  on  account  of 
the  noise  made  by  floundering  and  by  the 
suck  of  the  mud,  I  remained  lying  down  in 
the  mud  and  propelled  myself  over  its  sur- 
face by  means  of  my  hands.  Still  keeping 
the  trail  made  by  the  Chinese  in  going  from 
and  to  the  junk,  I  held  on  until  I  reached  the 
water.  Into  this  I  waded  to  a  depth  of  three 
feet,  and  then  I  turned  off  to  the  side  on  a 
line  parallel  with  the  beach. 

The  thought  came  to  me  of  going  toward 
Yellow  HandkerchiePs  skiff  and  escaping  in 
it,  but  at  that  very  moment  he  returned  to  the 
beach,  and,  as  though  fearing  the  very  thing 
I  had  in  mind,  he  slushed  out  through  the 
mud  to  assure  himself  that  dbe  skiff  was  safe. 


236     YELLOW    HANDKERCHIEF 

This  turned  me  in  the  opposite  direction. 
Half  swimming,  half  wading,  with  my  head 
just  out  of  water  and  avoiding  splashing,  I 
succeeded  in  putting  about  a  hundred  feet 
between  myself  and  the  spot  where  the 
Chinese  had  begun  to  wade  ashore  from  the 
junk.  I  drew  myself  out  on  the  mud  and 
remained  lying  flat. 

Again  Yellow  Handkerchief  returned  to  the 
beach  and  made  a  search  of  the  island,  and 
again  he  returned  to  the  heap  of  clam-shells. 
I  knew  what  was  running  in  his  mind  as  well 
as  he  did  himself.  No  one  could  leave  or 
land  without  making  tracks  in  the  mud.  The 
only  tracks  to  be  seen  were  those  leading 
from  his  skiff  and  from  where  the  junk  had 
been.  I  was  not  on  the  island.  I  must  have 
left  it  by  one  or  the  other  of  those  two  tracks. 
He  had  just  been  over  the  one  to  his  skiff,  and 
was  certain  I  had  not  left  that  way.  There- 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     237 

fore  I  could  have  left  the  island  only  by  going 
over  the  tracks  of  the  junk  landing.  This 
he  proceeded  to  verify  by  wading  out  over 
them  himself,  lighting  matches  as  he  came 
along. 

When  he  arrived  at  the  point  where  I  had 
first  lain,  I  knew,  by  the  matches  he  burned 
and  the  time  he  took,  that  he  had  discovered 
the  marks  left  by  my  body.  These  he  fol- 
lowed straight  to  the  water  and  into  it,  but 
in  three  feet  of  water  he  could  no  longer  see 
them.  On  the  other  hand,  as  the  tide  was 
still  falling,  he  could  easily  make  out  the 
impression  made  by  the  junk's  bow,  and 
could  have  likewise  made  out  the  impression 
of  any  other  boat  if  it  had  landed  at  that  par- 
ticular spot.  But  there  was  no  such  mark; 
and  I  knew  that  he  was  absolutely  convinced 
that  I  was  hiding  somewhere  in  the  mud.  Bancroft  Lib 

But  to  hunt  on  a  dark  night  for  a  boy  in  a 


238     YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

sea  of  mud  would  be  like  hunting  for  a  needle 
in  a  haystack,  and  he  did  not  attempt  it.  In- 
stead he  went  back  to  the  beach  and  prowled 
around  for  some  time.  I  was  hoping  he 
would  give  me  up  and  go,  for  by  this  time 
I  was  suffering  severely  from  the  cold.  At 
last  he  waded  out  to  his  skiff  and  rowed  away. 
What  if  this  departure  of  Yellow  Handker- 
chiefs were  a  sham  ?  What  if  he  had  done 
it  merely  to  entice  me  ashore  ? 

The  more  I  thought  of  it  the  more  certain  I 
became  that  he  had  made  a  little  too  much 
noise  with  his  oars  as  he  rowed  away.  So 
I  remained,  lying  in  the  mud  and  shivering. 
I  shivered  till  the  muscles  of  the  small  of  my 
back  ached  and  pained  me  as  badly  as  the 
cold,  and  I  had  need  of  all  my  self-control 
to  force  myself  to  remain  in  my  miserable 
situation. 

It  was  well  that  I  did,  however,  for,  pos- 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     239 

sibly  an  hour  later,  I  thought  I  could  make 
out  something  moving  on  the  beach.  I 
watched  intently,  but  my  ears  were  rewarded 
first,  by  a  raspy  cough  I  knew  only  too  well. 
Yellow  Handkerchief  had  sneaked  back, 
landed  on  the  other  side  of  the  island,  and 
crept  around  to  surprise  me  if  I  had  returned. 
After  that,  though  hours  passed  without 
sign  of  him,  I  was  afraid  to  return  to  the 
island  at  all.  On  the  other  hand,  I  was 
almost  equally  afraid  that  I  should  die  of 
the  exposure  I  was  undergoing.  I  had 
never  dreamed  one  could  suffer  so.  I  grew 
so  cold  and  numb,  finally,  that  I  ceased  to 
shiver.  But  my  muscles  and  bones  began  to 
ache  in  a  way  that  was  agony.  The  tide  had 
long  since  begun  to  rise,  and,  foot  by  foot,  it 
drove  me  in  toward  the  beach.  High  water 
came  at  three  o'clock,  and  at  three  o'clock  I 
drew  myself  up  on  the  beach,  more  dead  than 


24o     YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

alive,  and  too  helpless  to  have  offered  any 
resistance  had  Yellow  Handkerchief  swooped 
down  upon  me. 

But  no  Yellow  Handkerchief  appeared. 
He  had  given  me  up  and  gone  back  to  Point 
Pedro.  Nevertheless,  I  was  in  a  deplorable, 
not  to  say  a  dangerous,  condition.  I  could 
not  stand  upon  my  feet,  much  less  walk.  My 
clammy,  muddy  garments  clung  to  me  like 
sheets  of  ice.  I  thought  I  should  never  get 
them  off.  So  numb  and  lifeless  were  my 
fingers,  and  so  weak  was  I,  that  it  seemed 
to  take  an  hour  to  get  off  my  shoes.  I  had  not 
the  strength  to  break  the  porpoise-hide  laces, 
and  the  knots  defied  me.  I  repeatedly  beat 
my  hands  upon  the  rocks  to  get  some  sort  of 
life  into  them.  Sometimes  I  felt  sure  I  was 
going  to  die. 

But  in  the  end,  —  after  several  centuries, 
it  seemed  to  me,  —  I  got  off  the  last  of  my 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     24) 

clothes.  The  water  was  now  close  at  hand, 
and  I  crawled  painfully  into  it  and  washed 
the  mud  from  my  naked  body.  Still,  I 
could  not  get  on  my  feet  and  walk  and  I  was 
afraid  to  lie  still.  Nothing  remained  but  to 
crawl  weakly,  like  a  snail,  and  at  the  cost 
of  constant  pain,  up  and  down  the  sand. 
I  kept  this  up  as  long  as  possible,  but  as  the 
east  paled  with  the  coming  of  dawn  I  began 
to  succumb.  The  sky  grew  rosy- red,  and 
the  golden  rim  of  the  sun,  showing  above  the 
horizon,  found  me  lying  helpless  and  motion- 
less among  the  clam-shells. 

As  in  a  dream,  I  saw  the  familiar  mainsail 
of  the  Reindeer  as  she  slipped  out  of  San 
Rafael  Creek  on  a  light  puff  of  morning  air. 
This  dream  was  very  much  broken.  There 
are  intervals  I  can  never  recollect  on  looking 
back  over  it.  Three  things,  however,  I  dis- 
tinctly remember :  the  first  sight  of  the  Rein* 
Q 


242     YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF 

deer s  mainsail;  her  lying  at  anchor  a  few 
hundred  feet  away  and  a  small  boat  leaving 
her  side ;  and  the  cabin  stove  roaring  red-hot, 
myself  swathed  all  over  with  blankets,  except 
on  the  chest  and  shoulders,  which  Charley 
was  pounding  and  mauling  unmercifully,  and 
my  mouth  and  throat  burning  with  the  coffee 
which  Neil  Partington  was  pouring  down  a 
trifle  too  hot. 

But  burn  or  no  burn,  I  tell  you  it  felt  good. 
By  the  time  we  arrived  in  Oakland  I  was  as 
limber  and  strong  as  ever,  —  though  Charley 
and  Neil  Partington  were  afraid  I  was  going 
to  have  pneumonia,  and  Mrs.  Partington, 
for  my  first  six  months  of  school,  kept  an 
anxious  eye  upon  me  to  discover  the  first 
symptoms  of  consumption. 

Time  flies.  It  seems  but  yesterday  that 
I  was  a  lad  of  sixteen  on  the  fish  patrol. 
Yet  I  know  that  I  arrived  this  very  morning 


YELLOW   HANDKERCHIEF     243 

from  China,  with  a  quick  passage  to  my  credit, 
and  master  of  the  barkentine  Harvester. 
And  I  know  that  to-morrow  morning  I  shall 
run  over  to  Oakland  to  see  Neil  Partington 
and  his  wife  and  family,  and  later  on  up  to 
Benicia  to  see  Charley  Le  Grant  and  talk 
over  old  times.  No ;  I  shall  not  go  to  Benicia, 
now  that  I  think  about  it.  I  expect  to  be  a 
highly  interested  party  to  a  wedding,  shortly 
to  take  place.  Her  name  is  Alice  Partington, 
and,  since  Charley  has  promised  to  be  best 
man,  he  will  have  to  come  down  to  Oakland 
instead. 


